Thief
by Yuna Yami Mouto
Summary: Ancient cities and artifacts of great power don't just disappear on their own! The number of defections rises. A group of washouts and a warlord wind up on a world unlike any they've seen before and the leader is interesting enough. Peace. Equality. And no factions, put your weapons down, Primus damn it!
1. Chapter 1

**Thief**

**Summary: Ancient cities and artifacts of great power don't just disappear on their own! The number of defections rises. A group of washouts and a warlord wind up on a world unlike any they've seen before and the leader is interesting enough. Peace. Equallity. And no factions, put your weapons down, Primus damn it!**

**A/N: TFA, an idea that popped up into my head when listenimg to P¡nk's 'What About Us' and Papa Roach's 'None Of The Above' one after the other.**

The streets of Iacon were quiet and deserted safe for a mech just then exiting the Hall of Records, posture slumped and a worried expression on expressive faceplates. Most of the lights were off - how ironic, for a city nicknamed the 'City of Light', but energon was short in supply ever since the Great War and not to be wasted - as he made his way down the street, deep in thought and spsrk still heavy with grief and indecision.

Despite the honor he had been offered as opposed to being dismissed, he wasn't sure if it was the right thing to do, to accept that position. He was obviously inadequate. It had been just the three of them and yet he hadn't been able to get both of his companions, his _friends_ out. There had just been _no time_. Why had they even _been_ on that planet in the _first_ place!? It was strictly off limits! He had gone against the rules and look at how it had ended. Not that he hadn't tried to protest but all of his protests had fallen on deaf audials and now one of his friends was dead and the other blamed him for it - rightfully so, in his own opinion - and hated him. It hurt. It was all so _agonizing_. He wished he could just go back in time and stop it from happening, but that was impossible. He had to live with his regrets.

It wasn't helping that he was being offered a chance like this. It wasn't helping that he was bring offered _exile_ as though it should be a boon and he was expected to just smile and thank his commander. He didn't want to leave Cybertron, it was his _home_. Who knew when he'd see it the next time if he takes the position of leader for a space bridge repair crew. Space bridge repair crews repaired space bridges on the outer reaches of the Commonwealth's space. He'd be so far from home that he might as well be in another _galaxy_. And with a group of bots he doesn't even know! He doesn't really have a problem with that last bit but all that he'd ever known had always been here in Iacon. Short term trips, he had nothing against, when he _knew_ he would be coming back soon. But this ... On top of everything ...

And after the datapads he had just read ...

He had never known why Alpha Trion had taken such a liking to him, but the old mech had always given him full access to the Archives. He had spent so many megacycles in that old, beautiful building, reading everything and anything he could get his servos on to his spark's content. He had thought the familiarity of the Archives will afford him.a peace of processor to help him make a decision, hut it had only left a bittersweet taste on his glossa, for he had finally found the datapads he had always been searching for. The uncensored version of _Towards Peace_, a sort of manifesto and criticisms and an insight towards what had started the Great War, written by servo by none other than Lord Megatron of the Decepticons himself. A text he knew he would never finish in one night. Not to mention all the other texts he wanted to go through. The Great War had always been a great fascination to him. But if he accepted the position, he'll be stuck with just the things he had read about pre- and post the war.

And both had left him feeling like their society had a lot to be desired. The Autobots were nowhere near as courageous and noble and fair as they tried to make themselves be. Sure, he had always known deep down that half of what they learned was pure propaganda, but he had never thought that almost _all_ of it was altered. Reading the original records had left him doubting his place and the position he was being offered even more.

He vented a deep, rattling sigh as he passed the Primal Basilica, sealed closed as always, dark save for that small streak of light under the heavy doors like it had been since the fabled War for Freedom-

He froze. The Basilica had been sealed and undisturbed since the Quintesons tried taking over Cybertron and almost succeeded. They had sealed the Basilica and, as the rumors say, thousands if relics and treasures inside that could have helped Cybertron defend itself and no one had been able to enter the building since. The Senate that came after they chased the cyborg squids away had forbidden it and the Council that succeeded them had declared it a lost cause, that _nothing_ can break that seal. He reset his optics, thinking he was experiencing a malfunction, but the light was still there. Uncertain, he drew his ax out from his subspace and neared the Basilica. He shouldn't be here. No one lingered in front of the sacred building. The more superstitious mecha even whispered amongst themselves that the place was cursed somehow or that it was infected by some disease or something. Or that the squids had left sparkeaters inside. It was more than enough to keep bots away.

Yet, somehow, that wasn't nearly enough to keep _him_ away. In fact, the closer he got, the brighter that light was and the more he was _drawn_ to the building. A blue servo uncertainly touched one of the giant handles of the huge, heavy double doors and he released a yelp when the doors lit up, strange symbols flying from where he had touched the metal door upwards and towards both sides. The light from inside was blinding when the huge doors burst open and presented the inside of the Primal Basilica, the interior seen by a pair of young blue optics for the first time in several vorns. That light was blinding and it kept drawing him in, kept _calling_.

His spark was frantic inside his chassis and there was _nothing_ that could have stopped his pedes from walking him straight into the most holy of all sacred places for their people save the Well of the AllSpark and Vector Sigma, the two life givers. He wasn't even aware when his ax hit the floor. All he was aware of was the light, calling to him, filling him with warmth and love, welcoming him like nothing had ever before and the _acceptance_ that he felt here, like he _belonged_ ... He walked in without hesitation, though his stabilazer struts felt unsteady. There was no room in his processor for wondering why he was here, whether he _should_ be here, _how_ he was here. There was no room for doubt. The light chased it all away.

_Come, little Prime. Come to me. I have been waiting._

"For what?" He asked, in an ancient dialect he had not even known he could speak, vocalizer spitting static in protest before something settled, deep in his processor, in his frame, in his _spark_. "Waiting for what?"

_For you._

He just stared into the light, unable to look away, continued walking forwards even as he shook his head in denial. Who would wait for _him_? He was a failure, a nobody. "Who _are_ you?"

_You know that answer, little one._

And he did. Without a doubt, he knew. How could he not. This sort of feeling could only originate from one source and one source alone. He fell to his knees, chestplates open, spark singing as it soaked up all of that unconditional love. He swore he could see stars. That, or his optics were overloading. Or malfunctioning. Or this could all just be a hopeful dream. Yes, that had to be it. Just a dream, an illusion his processor created to relieve some of his stress and guilt, to make him forget, if only for a moment, how spectacularly he had failed his closest friend, his Amica Endura. This was just a dream. Everyone had the right to indulge themselves in a dream, right? Though he would have preferred a dream where he hadn't failed, where his Amica Endura was still online ...

_Oh, my precious little one. She lives. She lives and she is alone and she is afraid_, the voice said and he gasped. It didn't sound quite the same as before. It was closer. The light felt like a solid blanket around him now. He was quivering, shaking down to his protoform like a scared sparkling. And yet he felt no fear at all. He felt only comfort. Comfort and hope. Because if what the voice was saying was true ... If there was even the faintest chance that it was _true_ ...

"I have to find her!"

_Soon, little one. Soon._

"No, now! She might be hurt! She needs help! I should have never left her back there! It should have been me!"

_But it was not and no,.it shouldn't have. Cybertron would have been left without a future if their Prime offlined._

He drew short, his ventilation stalling. "I'm not a Prime. I still don't know whether I should take that position. I could just endanger more bots' lives-"

_Prime_, the voice insisted, carefully pronouncing the word and his ventilation froze completely as he recognized the difference. He wanted to protest but his spark sang in pleasure. It whispered _Prime, me, yes, love you Creator, my people, need to help my people, Prime, lead, peace, save lives, save Cybertron, Prime, me, yes_ and so on and so forth and he knew he couldn't deny what his very spark, his very _being_ was insisting to his self-deprecating processor as though it was scolding a sparkling that thought it was glitched because it lacked experience.

"Prime ... " He whispered uncertainly and was once again surprised how right it sounded. "I'm Prime."

_Yes._

"You want me to ... somehow _end_ this."

_Yes_, came the answer with a pulse of satisfaction and affection.

"You want me to leave." It wasn't a question. Everything was clear. His spark was singing. The light was coming closer. He could almost touch its source. He still didn't know what _was_ its source. It felt like it was meant to be his. Whatever it was, it was his and no one else's. And he wanted it. He wanted it closer as much as it wanted to be closer. He had never encountered something like this before.

He was completely unaware of it, but the entire Primal Basilica has lit up like a newly born star, wild and bright but nobot was awake to see it or simply wasn't looking in the right direction. The inside of the Basilica was humming with energy. Energon was crawling though wall cravings of ancient battles and beings older than time, making a breathtaking picture that could not be compared to the changes happening to the only mech inside these walls. It was a rainbows of color as pure white light danced over red, blue and silver plating. The mech in question was completely oblivious to the changes of his frame, from the harmless markings being left in the wake of white light, white as the light of Haden, to the change in his color scheme, designs like liquid fire remaining on his pedes and the bottom half of his servos and from his hips to his chestplates, the way his plating became just a tiny bit thicker and a whole lot stronger, the way his processor pinged him with new additions to his back. He was only just a tiny bit vaguely aware of his chest changing, his spark chamber molding itself into a new shape, a better shape to carry the burden about to be thrust upon him.

A burden he was perhaps onlined for, for only those of true compassion and care and a truly pure spark that wishes good for all can bear it.

_Yes_, the voice answered, sounding somewhat regretful. A feeling like something brushing his finials made the mech shudder. _But only for a little while. You are needed by my children more than by me. You and I shall have an eternity together, little one, a long time from now. I can be patient._

"I don't want to leave." Not just Cybertron, this building, this chamber. He _belonged_ here. He needed somewhere to _belong_. He _needed_ it. He had never belonged, even before he had messed up. "I don't want to go." He wrapped his servos around himself in a desperate need for a hug that he knew he won't receive from anyone because there was no one left to give it to him. His Amica Endura was on a completely different planet and the only other Person who could give him a hug hated him and was just _waiting_ for a chance to belittle him or get rid of him. He wanted to _stay_. "I don't want to be alone!"

He was so scared. How could he be a Prime?

_Oh, little Prime._ The voice returned, even closer than before. He felt like there were giant arms reaching for him but letting him choose whether he will accept them or not. A choice. _I will never let you be alone ever again._ A promise. A promise that soothed his spark for he _knew_ it will be kept. His spark skipped a few harmonics. He reached back for those giant servos. He needed them. He needed someone to hold him as he fell apart and built himself back up again to be stronger. He needed that comfort. He needed to feel _safe_, to be _wanted_. Even if only for a little while. _Oh, my little one. You do not belong here_, the voice sounded mournful even as he accepted the reformatted mech. More of the young bot transformed. He gasped as something hot and light settled right over his spark, encompassing it as though it _belonged_ there. It just might.

It felt so _good_.

He released a keen as something snapped at the realization that the voice was right. He didn't. He never had. There was a mold here, one he didn't fit. Not with his questions, not with his thirst for knowledge, not with his way of thinking, not with his willingness to forgo rules and regulations if he knew there was an alternative, not if he knew there was a better way, a way that won't leave him trying to hide from his conscience. He wasn't a cog. He didn't belong in a machine. He was an individual. They could repeat the same speech at him until they were as blue in the face as he was and it won't change a thing. It was a relief to know who and what he was.

It hurt that he can't be that at home.

_Not yet, little one, but soon. Which is why you must leave. You are in danger here._ The voice said as it cradled him without a form to actually do it but still managing in that way only creators and deities can. Of course the creator deity would be a master at it. _They are not yet ready to accept you. Not for a little while longer. You must leave. Take everything that is in this chamber, every artifact, every relic, and leave._

"How? Go where!?" He asked in desperation, wishing he could cling to something but not being able to touch anything in the physical plane of existence. His spark, though, could cling just fine and he used that to his advantage. Primus didn't seem to mind. In fact, his voice and energies purred in content at holding his new little Prime.

_You just need to listen to your spark, little one. It will never lead you astray. Go where it tells you and you will reach every destination, you will fulfill your destiny. And fear not,_ the voice was starting to fade and he got pings from his processor that the sequence to close his chestplate was active and asking for permission to do so, only then drawing attention to the changes his frame had gone through this strange night cycle. _I shall never be too far, even when you are half a universe away. We shall speak again, my little Prime. For now, you must go. They are waiting._

"Who is!? Wait! Please, don't go yet! I have so many questions!" He called desperately after the retreating presence of their Creator, his chestplates closing and covering his spark, the light dimming until it was almost completely gone, leaving him in semi-darkness. There was only a faint light coming from beyond the windshield on his chest, creeping through the seams that covered his spark. He'll need to find a better alt mode, one that will better protect his spark.

_And the answers are all in your spark. You just need seek them._

And just like that, Primus left his newest Prime all alone in a should-be sealed sacred Primal Basilica to deal with the cryptic instructions left to him. The mech looked around and didn't hesitate to step towards the closest artifact, picking it up and watching in fascination as it lit up at his touch, glowing like it was made of a star. Appropriate, given its name. And yet the sword didn't quite fit. He looked further around and found one curiously with the same coloration as himself. He reached for it and startled when the beautiful sword seemed to burn with liquid fire, the same symbols that now graced the new Prime lighting up as it all but sailed into his outstretched servo. The new Prime stared at it for a moment and looked around at all the other items there. Any he neared started humming with power, recognizing him as a Prime and reacting to his presence.

In the end, he used a big transformation cog, which he recognized as the legendary artifact of Amalgamous Prime that allowed him to constantly change shape, endlessly, and he used it to shrink all the other relics and artifacts, all of which he recognized save for the sword in his colors, which he had strapped to his back - as his unexpected reformatting allowed for it now - so he can fit the relics into his subspace. He had never heard of an artifact like it before. Then again, it is said every Prime got an artifact and that one felt like it was _his_ and his alone, just like the Forge was Solus', the Star Saber Prima's and the Requiem Blaster Megatronus'. He saw that a couple of the relics were missing, but he had a good idea why. He cast a glance towards the Hall of Records as he closed the Primal Basilica and picked up his discarded ax, replacing it into his subspace. He looked down both sides of the empty street and concentrated on the new features and the new coding he got, wincing in discomfort when two pairs of flight stabilizers emerged from his back, one smaller and pointing upwards, the secondary quite a bit smaller and tips pointing downwards, with a pair of small but powerful boosters wedged in the middle of all four stabilizers.

He took a deep invent and closed his optics, focused on his spark, on where he was supposed to be until he felt a clear thread, like a guiding line that led out into the Sea of Rust and his optics snapped open, a clear destination in his processor and a new understanding. He will need to get used to that. He hoped he had the time.

Prime took another deep vent and lifted off.

00000

_"Breaking news! This last night cycle, the most holy of places for our species has been broken into and the Primal Basilica has been robbed of all the relics and artifacts it was said to house. This morning, the dawn shift of enforcers marched past the Basilica only to find that the millennia old seals were broken and that the Basilica was completely empty of all the sacred relics of the Primes. Surprisingly enough, no riches, such as precious crystals and rare metal alloys, that were also stored there were taken. There are no signs of vandalism and nothing is broken save the seals that have been keeping the Basilica closed for vorns. The enforcers on site report that there is no message-"_

_"-it makes one wonder, don't you think? For stellar cycles, we've all been told that the Basilica can't be entered due to what the Quitnessons have done to it when they attempted a hostile takeover. And yet some random thief had managed to enter the most sacred of our grounds in one night, without being noticed? Have we been deceived all these years, my fellow Autobots? Surely we could have done what this thief has done on our own, long before this criminal has become bold enough to steal our precious relics? What is the reason that we have never reclaimed the very center of our religion? We cannot stand for this! We are the children of Primus and we have been denied-"_

_"It is unbelievable, Blaster, simply unbelievable! Last day cycle, it has been here, where it has been for the last ten billion stellar cycles, if not longer, but with this cycles first light, during the customary satellite and telescope patrol, the officers on duty on Luna 2 have contacted High Command in a panic, stating that the whole city is _gone_. There are no traces of it ever being here, save for the giant crater behind me-"_

_"-the Head of the Ministary of Science, Perceptor. Tell us, Perceptor, are the rumors true? Have the ruins of the ancient city, Astroplex, truly been bombed by Decepticon aggressors in the night? How have they managed to come to Cybertron undetected? How is it that no one saw the explosion? And, most importantly, are we safe?"_

_"It is my great sorrow to report that this last night cycle, we have lost an invaluable historical treasure when the Decepticons destroyed Astroplex. The Elite Guard apologizes for this grave mistake on our part and we promise that we shall make sure they face judgment for this attack against our very own Cybertronian culture and history. There is an ongoing investigation whether they are also responsible for the theft of the Primal Basilica, but the Thief does not show any signs of being in any sort of allegiance with them. Still, we are keeping a weather optic on the horizon. The truth will come to light. For now, I call all Autobots to mourn the loss of our very valuable history but not to despair. Astroplex may be gone, but I promise we will find and return the sacred relics of the Primes. The desecration of the Primal Basilica will _not_ be tolerated or forgiven. Ultra Magnus out."_

_"-reported missing former Autobot Academy cadet, suspected to have been victimized in last night cycle's events. If you see him or know anything about his whereabouts, please contact the nearest Elite Guard officer."_


	2. Chapter 2

**Thief**

**Summary: Ancient cities and artifacts of great power don't just disappear on their own! The number of defections rises. A group of washouts and a warlord wind up on a world unlike any they've seen before and the leader is interesting enough. Peace. Equallity. And no factions, put your weapons down, Primus damn it!**

"Everyone! Get into the stasis pods!" An old red and white medibot yelled with true panic lacing his command and the three young Autobots raced to do as he commanded, fear seizing their sparks like never before. One managed to hide it but the younger two certainly didn't. Not when they had never received any formal training in combat or anything, for that matter. The medic was at least a war veteran, though that might not be so good when one thinks about it, considering what had preceded their current situation of crashed through an alien planet's atmosphere. "Now, Primus damn it!"

"But what about that populated sector?" Their resident cyberninja asked, casting a glance at the dark city they were heading for, lit up by their street and house lights, much smaller than any of them had ever seen before but not all species tended to be as big as Cybertronians. Still, life was life and there were thousands in not millions of lives in the populated area their ship was bound to crash into.

"I'm afraid there's no time! If we don't get into those pods now, we'll just end up dying with them!" The two-wheeler hesitated but they all ultimately followed the medic's instructions and got into the pods. They were just a bunch of space bridge repair bots. They didn't know anything about stirring this ship and if their oldest member couldn't get them out of it, they themselves certainly couldn't. It was a miracle enough that they hadn't all died when they nearly crashed into that planetoid before they had randomly bridged here in the first place. They all threw one last curious, mournful glance at the settlement their ship will no doubt decimate before getting into their pods. Cybertronians and Cybertronian ships were all made of really sturdy metal alloys. _They'll_ be fine, but will the species they're crashing in to?

They were in stasis before the guilt could fully settle in.

On top of their ship, hanging on for dear life with one servo, the other blown off and somehow still clinging to the hull as its owner was, was a big, gray warframe, dentae grit as red optics stared at certain doom. It was a miracle that the entry into the atmosphere hadn't dislodged him or started melting his body, but Cybertronian warframes were made to withstand anything and yet still continue fighting. This, though, the warframe wasn't certain even he will be able to survive. What torqued him off the most was that there had been no reward for his cause. The blip of AllSpark energy they picked up hadn't originated from the Autobot ship and the relic wasn't on board. He wasn't sure how the energy signature had even been registered, but he had thought that the Autobots had some sort of scrambler and were trying to hide. There was no way this pathetic unit would have been sent to reclaim the AllSpark, though. He was going to offline for _nothing_!

He looked down at the settlement they were going to crash into and snarled when he recognized it to be a distinctly organic design, though rather different from any other organic made cities he had seen so far. In fact, it surprised him that he could see some of the buildings had a ... disturbingly Cybertronian design, an old one, but Cybertronian none the less. A cold dread rattled his plating as it occurred to him just how these pathetic fleshlings might have gotten the designs. He'd encountered enough organic species to know very few of them consider it murder or torture of a sentient being when they did it to a Cybertronian. He snarled in anger and disgust at the thought of ending up as a severed head in some fleshling's lab, studied and experimented on. He will be _slagged_ if that was the way a mech like him will offline.

His frame was overheating. His vents couldn't intake enough atmosphere to battle the head. His cooling systems were sending him overstressed pings. He was shutting down, despite his battle protocol's best efforts. Self-preservation was pulling him into stasis lock and there was nothing he could do about it. At least he won't feel the impact or those pathetic fleshbags rummaging around his frame. He _hoped_.

Just as his optics were offlining, he thought he saw a bright red something hurtling towards him and he thought he felt an electric shock but he fell into stasis before he could decipher it.

00000

Ratchet came online with surprisingly little pain, considering what was the last thing he remembered. He groggily onlined his optics and was surprised not to see the yellow walls of the Orion but rather metallic walls and ceiling of what looked like a well furnished and excellently equipped Cybertronian medbay. He sat up with a jolt, a part of his processor trying to label the room as _definitely_ Cybertronian but there were some too small objects lying around that afforded him a completely different image and he started looking around in something akin to panic. He activated his electromagnets when the door swooshed open and in walked ...

A very familiar mech.

"Deadlock!?"

The Decepticon smirked, letting red optics rake over the Autobot's chassis, either out of his own pleasure or checking him for injuries. "Good to see you too, Doc, though I go by Drift these days."

Ratchet tried not to react to the smooth, purring drawl that brought back quite a few memories from the very beginning of the war, when he and this Decepticon had been stuck on a colony on the outer ridges of Autobot space and he had treated the Decepticon's wounds while the Decepticon had protected him from the strange creatures that had inhabited the abandoned station there. It had been a very long decacycle for them both and he had never seen or heard from Deadlock again, but he had thought he'd heard rumors about the other defecting, which he had thought meant he was as good as dead. The Decepticon Justice Division never let a traitor escape.

"What's a supposedly former Decepticon officer doing in a backwards, primitive system like this?" The medic asked, watching warily as the dark aqua colored mech gracefully glided forwards. He could see Deadlock's swords strapped to his back, a cyberninja through and through, preferring blades over guns. Then again, he had been Decepticon by choice alone, seeing as he was definitely not a true warframe, not with his wheels.

The bigger mech tutted at him reprovingly, shaking a digit at him as though he were a misbehaving sparkling. Ratchet snarled and bared his dentae in a gesture he had learned from this mech himself and it only made Deadlock laugh, which only made Ratchet long for a wrench. "Ah, you haven't changed a bit. Good. I always did like the grumpy ones. Do they still call you the Hatchet?"

"Answer the slagged question, Decepticreep."

The cyberninja just sighed and shook his helm. "I've already told you my name's Drift now and I _am_ a former Decepticon. As for what I'm doing here, this is where I live." Ratchet shot him quite a spectacular skeptical look and Deadlo- Drift raised both servos as if to show he wasn't hiding anything. "Really! I live on this planet! Imagine my surprise when I saw Big Bot had dragged the Orion in. I had a suspicion you might be on it, but I knew what happened to the Sentinels, so I had _some_ doubts. Still, Big Bot let me come greet you, since we thought you might appreciate a familiar face."

"Where's my team?" Ratchet demanded, looking around and sighing when he spotted a familiar yellow pede on a berth not far from his own. The other two must be close by as well. At least that answered _that_ pressing question. "And my ship? Where are we? This is a sophisticated medbay, so this has to be a well developed organization, so you have to have a chain in command. Who's in charge? You?"

Drift snorted. "As if I'd ever be in charge. I'm a loner by nature."

"And yet you're in some sort of community, anyway."

The warrior just shrugged his shoulders carelessly. "What can I say? There are many mecha who would follow Optimus Prime anywhere."

Prime. That meant the Elite Guard. That meant they were with _Autobots_. So how was a former Decepticon the one that greeted him upon waking up? How was a Decepticon even _here_? "I would like to speak with him, if you don't mind. And you never answered any of my questions." Ratchet accused and Drift just chuckled. Ratchet wished his plating didn't rattle and that his spark hadn't sped up. He hated himself for how easily this one mech could make him feel so _vulnerable_. He had thought he had built those walls up after hearing about Deadlock's defection and realizing they will never see each other again, despite what the other promised if the war ended. The war was over for more than a million stellar cycles now and Deadlock had not kept that silly, absurd, spur of the moment promise despite being _alive_. Ratchet hated how he was so affected and Deadlo- Drift looking like he couldn't care less.

"Sure, but you'll have to wait a bit. He's got bigger fish to worry about than you lot for the moment." The fragger smiled at Ratchet's confusion so the medic sent him his best death glare. That only made Drift's smile widen. "As for your other questions, your team is here and perfectly fine. You lot are lucky Big Bot plucked your ship out of the sky right before it hit Detroit, or else there would have been around 1.2 million casualties at the _least_. Human and Cybertronian both." Ratchet gasped, optics widening at the prospect of so many dead and wrenching guilt settled in his tank that he had been willing to let it happen. But those young bots were under _his_ care. He couldn't ask them to offline for complete strangers. He also tried to wrap his mind around the fact that this Optimus had _plucked_ them out of the sky as though they were a mischievous sparkling and not a crashing war ship. "Your ship is also fine, undergoing repairs for some rather interesting damage. It should be ready in a few orbital cycles. Though you might want our maintenance crew to repair some of the old damage. Let Optimus and Sari take a look at it. Maybe they can do something about ... _you know_."

"What?" The medic in him wondered if it was normal for a spark to skip so many harmonics and for the mech in question to still be online. Or for one's optics to go this wide. He hadn't even known it was _possible_.

"We're on a planet called Earth, the home world of an organic species calling themselves humans. You're in the Milky way galaxy, better known to us as Sector Epsilon 723095 Omega. There are no Autobot space bridges around, we are far from both Autobot and Decepticon space and this sector hasn't seen one iota of our war. You're welcome to stay here for as long as you like or until one of you starts making trouble and Optimus kicks you out."

Ratchet sent him a suspicious glare. "Are you saying this _Optimus Prime_ has control of the entire planet? Why would the Elite Guard even _be_ here?"

Drift looked at him for a long, long while before he burst into a long laughing fit. The Autobot just glared at him some more until the former Decepticon finally calmed down to just a chuckle here and there. "Elite Guard, Primus, that's a good one." He shook his head with an amused smile and Ratchet couldn't help but stare. It had been a long while since he had seen such genuine, carefree laughter and amusement in a Cybertronian. Not since before the war. Maybe not even then. Not like Drift was now. His EM field was vibrating with it. "No, Optimus Prime doesn't control the planet. He has an agreement with them. We all live together and benefit from this cohabitation. As soon as Hook or Hound clear you, you and your team can go for a tour. I'll even be your guide! For now, though, I'd better leave you to have a talk with your cyberninja teammate." There was a twitch a little beyond Bumblebee's berth and Ratchet knew Prowl was online. Kid was good at faking it but Drift had eons on Prowl in cyberninja training. His attention was brought back to the former Decepticon when he took Ratchet's servo and had the bearings to drop a kiss to his knuckles. Ratchet hated how his faceplates heated up. He wasn't a young bot anymore, frag it! "Until later, my Ratchet."

And he was gone before Ratchet could improvise with something other than a wrench to throw at him. The old bot sighed and looked over to where Prowl had silently walked up to his berth, a barely perceived scowl on his usually still faceplates. "I take it you have history."

"I take it you've been away for most of that conversation?"

The black and gold ninjabot didn't look one bit ashamed. "Are we prisoners? Do you think we could escape?"

Ratchet looked over to Bulkhead and Bumblebee's berths and shook his head. "Not until we know where our ship is. Or the landscape. Through Dea- Drift insinuated that we can leave whenever we want. I have a mind to speak to this ... Optimus Prime before we do."

"The leader? Why?"

"Because Drift was a Decepticon and while he still has red optics, I didn't see a Decepticon sigil on him anywhere. Not only that, but this Optimus is impersonating an Elite Guard officer. Or defected. I'm not sure which is worse, but he obviously has allies. I just don't know if it's more Decepticons or a entirely new, third party. We can't just leave without any intel!"

"So you want to stay with _Decepticons_ until we find out!?" The now awake yellow minibot screeched and Ratchet winced as the loud noise assaulted his audio receptors. "Did the impact scramble your circuits, Ratchet!? We'll get scrapped in a klik!"

But the medic could only shake his helm. "De- _Drift_ wouldn't lie, not to _me_. I know that much. And if they wanted us offline, why are we here, getting checked for damage instead of in smelter?" The youngster had nothing to say at that but didn't look all too reassured. Ratchet sighed and slid off the berth. "I say we wait until this Optimus can meet us and we decide to what to do from there. Because, right now, the best we can do is not cause any trouble. We don't know if _you know who_ is still around."

The door to the medbay opened and a mech as big as Bulkhead but with enough guns and grenades to supply a whole unit walked in, optics thankfully Autobot blue and a field medic symbol on two first aid packs strapped to his utility belt. He seemed to be chewing on what looked like a piece of ammunition for one of his seemingly numerous guns. The Autobots didn't know whether they should be relieved or scared. Not exactly what you'd expect of a medibot. He at least had five digits, unlike Bulkhead. He looked up at them from a datapad he was reading and grinned. "Ah, I see you're all awake or waking up. Good morning, sleeping beauty," he joked at Bulkhead, he had just sat up and was rubbing his optics. "Drift told me some of you are awake and I came to check. This is good. You've been in deep stasis for an entire day now-"

"What's a day?" Bulkhead interrupted, asking in open curiosity. "And who are you?" The medic reset his optics before chuckling.

"A day is this planet's orbital cycle. It lasts twenty four hours, and an hour is a similar time unit to a joor, if slightly shorter. And my name is Hound and I'll be your medic until I'm sure all of you are well enough to go exploring, though I hear you want to talk with Optimus? You'll have to wait. He's got his servos full with Hook's patient. Just so you know you were lucky to be assigned to me and not Knock Out. He's insufferable. It's all about his finish!" Hound grumbled with an irritated frown. "Anyway, welcome to Metroplex. I'll just give you a quick check up and sign you off if you're all fine."

"Metroplex? That's a very Cybertronian name for an organic city," Prowl observed as he returned to his berth obediently, keeping a sharp optic on the bigger medic. "I thought your ... colleague said we were in a place called 'Detroit'."

"You nearly _crashed_ into Detroit, which is a short boat ride or a drive over a bridge and even shorter flight away from Metroplex. And Metroplex ain't a human city. It's Optimus'. Only Cybertronians live here, even though humans walk around and have business deals with some of our own businesses. And we have our own businesses in Detroit, too. This ain't an army base, before you let your processors wander off with ya. And there's no factions here, just so you know." Hound gestured at his own person with a wink. "If you have a problem with that, we'll set you off on your merry way as soon as you and your ship are travel-worthy." He moved away from Prowl over to Bullkhead, inspecting the largest Autobot with a critical eye on a scanner. "I'd better leave the explanations to Optimus. He usually greets all the new bots personally, but this is the first time we've had to host such a high ranking officer and Optimus thought it best if he's around for when he wakes up. He and Hook will be able to handle old bucket-head if bad comes to worse."

Prowl, Bulkhead and Bumblebee were too young to recognize the nickname, but Ratchet wasn't. His energon seemed to have frozen and his spark started swirling frantically. "Are you telling me Megatron is online and _here_!?"

Hound froze and gave a sheepish look. "Um, oops? I shouldn't have told you that."

_Primus_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thief**

**Summary: Ancient cities and artifacts of great power don't just disappear on their own! The number of defections rises. A group of washouts and a warlord wind up on a world unlike any they've seen before and the leader is interesting enough. Peace. Equallity. And no factions, put your weapons down, Primus damn it!**

Unlike the Autobots, who woke up slowly and in stages from their stasis, Megatron jerked off the berth with a jolt, all systems coking online at once and his Fusion Cannon whirring to life, his memories supplying him with the last moments before he fell into stasis and his battle protocols primed for action. He had expected to be restrained and to have organics crawling all over him, pocking at his body, maybe doing some experiments and all but lobotomizing his chassis. He expected to have to fight his way through, to be in a too small chamber, to have weapons trained on him as soon as he moved.

He didn't expect to hear a startled yelp, for a small organic but not to be launched off of his chest when he sat up and for it to start _flying_ in order to stop itself from hitting the opposite wall. He didn't expect to hear familiar curses in an all too familiar, long since thought dead voice or to see red optics anywhere near him.

He definitely hadn't expected for a red and blue little Autobot to jump at him and redirect his cannon's shot before it can damage anyone. Autobot blue optics stared up at him above a silver battlemask, small servo holding up his cannon arm so it was aiming at the ceiling and the other holding a small but wicked sharp gold-colored blade to his neck cables in warning. Megatron snarled and moved his free servo to grab the Autobot around the neck-

"Lord Megatron! Please cease at once! You are destroying my medbay!"

The gray Decelticon reset his optics and looked over to the familiar form of a dark gray and green Decepticon medic he had thought offline for three hundred stellar cycles. "Hook? Is that you?"

Hook huffed and stalked closer, glaring at his lord and master. "Yes, it's me, Lord Megatron. You are safe, in my medbay, in Metroplex, a city on an organic planet by the name of Earth. Now, if you would _please_ deactivate your Fusion Cannon, my Lord, so we can talk like civilized mecha ... " He trailed off with a pointed look at said weapon. Megatron flicked his optics at the strange hovering organic-but-not and the Autobot holding a weapon to his neck and his former CMO sighed. "They mean you no harm as long as you don't attack them, my Lord, so please just power down your cannon." Megatron hesitated for a moment longer before deciding to trust his medic and powering down his cannon to its lowest setting. Hook just sighed again and shrugged at the Autobot. "It will have to do."

The Autobot sent him one last warning look before stepping away, taking the restraining servo and the blade with him. He retracted his battlemask and Megatron was startled at the alluring features it revealed, even though they were set in a light scowl. "Before anything, I want to make myself perfectly clear," the smallest mech in the room said in a surprisingly commanding tone for one facing down two warframes so much larger than him. He would be only a little taller than Megatron's hip if they were both standing up! "You harm _anybot_ here and I will make you _wish_ you burned up in the atmosphere. Everyone here is under my explicit protection and anyone who ignores that isn't welcome. Is that understood?"

Megatron flicked his optics between the civilianframe, the organic-but-not and Hook before snorting. "I have better things to waste energon on than whoever is here, Autobot."

The red, blue and silver bot echoed his snort and crossed his arms. "Not an Autobot and I'll take that as you giving me your word. And now you have mine that you, too, are under my protection for however long you stay here as long as you don't cause any trouble. You can stay as long as you like if you follow that one rule. And by trouble, I mean murder, brawls outside of a sparring arena, maiming, property damage, mental, physical or emotional molestation, theft, belittling, cyber-crime, provocation, lobotomy, picking on humans, hostage situations, using weaponry around sparklings or humans and cruel pranks. Anything that might disturb the general peace, really. You don't do any of that and you're more than welcome to stay here."

"Do I _look_ like an immature sparkling to you?" Megatron asked, offended, though he was impressed by the smaller mech standing up against him. The most surprising thing was that he claimed not to be an Autobot. Megatron looked over his frame and was surprised to see no solemn, scowling red face anywhere on the bot's body. A neutral, then. How intriguing. He'd never met one outside of Lockdown and Swindle, but they followed the credits, not a cause.

"Looks can be deceiving," the civilian replied with a far too innocent smile to be true and Megatron smirked. He liked this one.

"Very well, not-an-Autobot. I give you my word that I will not cause you or yours any trouble so long as I am not threatened." He arched an optic ridge when the colorful mech offered his servo. He mimicked the gesture and was surprised when a blue servo clasped his. A spark traveled through both their frames and they shared a startled glance before carefully retracting their hands. "Do you know who you are housing? Because the Autobot Elite Guard might give you some trouble if they find out."

"You're Megatron, the Decepticon Lord, Emperor of Destruction. The Elite Guard can kiss my aft for all I care," the red and blue mech said with a snort. "My name is Optimus Prime, by the way. I'm the leader of the community of Cybertroanians that live here. Be advised that there are _no_ factions here, so don't go treating civilianframes any differently than warframes. Or better yet, _forget_ frame type. I shudder to think how you'd treat the warframes."

Megatron arched an optic ridge at that, not sure what was more surprising. Oh, he _knew_ there were many who defected that the DJD was still searching for or that had faked their offlining well enough that Megatron was actually impressed enough to let them off. And there were always those declared MIA or KIA without ever being sure as to what happened to them. That they had chosen to live amongst Autobo- _former_ Autobots led by a former Autobot was not something he would have expected from them. But Hook was here as well. Hook was loyal. His brothers were still serving loyally and searching for him everywhere they went. Many had already written off their best medic as offline seeing as he had been stuck at the boarders to Quintesson space the last time they'd seen him, trapped between approaching Autobot troops and the Quintesson patrol unit. Megatron had held out hope. Hook was his personal medic and a rather close friend. He hadn't wanted him to be gone. And that wasn't even going into how big of a strategic advantage he and his brother were as one of the two gestalt teams that the Decepticons relied on. Bruticus and Devastator were invaluable. The greatest loss in Hook had been that they had lost their CMO. Scalpel was good, but he wasn't Hook. Besides, you _knew_ you could trust Hook not to steal your transformation cog and sell it to Swindle, something that can't be said for Scalpel.

"I already gave you my word that I won't cause you any trouble. Actually, I am quite curious as to what kind of community you run here," he smirked at the smaller mech, getting a scrutinizing look in return before the smirk was returned at him.

"I'll be waiting outside, then, to give you a tour. _If_ Hook declares you ready. You _did_ get some bad metal burn and a whole lot of damage. Did you catch a grenade or something?" There was actual concern there, which was surprising enough, giving him pause and then anger surged, making the organic-but-not and Hook flinch. Optimus, though, fell into a defensive stance when Megatron snarled as he thought about how he had ended up here in the first place. That explosion ...

"_Starscream_!"

"Um, should we be worried?" The little organic-but-not whispered to Hook and the medic sighed, rubbing his helm tiredly while Optimus stared up at Megatron as though he was glitched.

"I take it Starscream's infamous treachery is what nearly killed you, four Autobots and over 1.2 million casualties." Megatron snarled, enraged that it wasn't even a question. He should have killed that seeker _vorns_ ago. No matter what sort of strategic advantage the former Airlord of Vos brought, he brought still even more trouble than he was worth. The seeker had been careful, never challenging Megatron but always arguing with him in some low key way that usually ended with his wings bent out of shape. Megatron had only put up with him because the seekers were only loyal to an Airlord and he would lose the entire armada if he offlined Starscream. He had contemplated creating some sort of fake accident and writing it off as a tragedy, but he can't do that as long as Starscream's trine-mates still lived. They would know the truth and they would take the seekers away from the Decepticon Cause. Not even the Decepticon Justice Devision would manage to capture and punish them all. It would be a waste of resources and time. Starscream's death was too much trouble. He'll have to find another way to deal with him.

So instead, he focused on the other interesting thing that Optimus had said. "Those four Autobots survived?" Sure, a warframe _could_ survive entering a planet's atmosphere and _maybe_ the impact, but surely not a civilianframe! Not even if they were in a ship! It would have exploded on impact, taking the lives of everyone on board, even if they were in stasis pods.

"Yeah, it was all thanks to Optimus! It was wicked cool!" The smallest and youngest occupant of the room exclaimed, coming to float on small thrusters in front of Megatron. "Hi, my name's Sari and just in case you were wondering," the organic-but-not said and retracted her facemask and the entirety of her helm plating, revealing a truly organic head and face beneath, making Megatron jerk back in surprise at _this_ particular transformation. "I'm a techno-organic, half Cybertronian, half human. Nice to meet you. Did anyone ever tell you your cannon is frigging _cool_! I've never seen _anything_ like it and I've seen a _lot_ of weapons, both mods and not, around here. How long are you staying?"

Megatron had to reset his optics twice in quick succession to make sure he wasn't glitching or that this wasn't, indeed, some weird recharge flux. So he looked towards Optimus, who only shrugged. "We arrived on Earth and settled here some seventy years - this planet's solar cycle - ago, connected Metroplex with Detroit and started living together as an autonomous, independent, recognized state of our own some fifty years ago and Sari's father - like a sire for organics - found a protoform in his lab some sixteen years ago. Somehow, when he touched it, the protoform imprinted on created Sari by combining Cybertronian CNA and human DNA. We think the AllSpark was playing a joke on us, since it gave Sari a Key with it's power some eight years ago. We're still trying to figure out how a protoform made its way to Earth and into Professor Sumdac's lab."

The warlord decided he'd rather not touch that conversation topic with a ten mechanometer long pole and instead focused on something else, again. "So these ... humans recognize your ... community as a separate, legal state?" He wasn't sure he'd ever heard if an organic species living together with Cybertronians before.

"Yes. We live in a mutually beneficial agreement with humanity, seeing as we're living on their home planet. We do trade in all but weaponry and dangerous raw materials, to either species, they let us build a city of our own and they respect our laws just like we respect theirs. No one causes trouble for the other. We have their home world's protection and hospitality, we maintain it and we protect and represent Earth in the eyes of the Galactic Council," Optimus explained, though only leaving Megatron even more stupefied.

"You have a seat at the Galactic Council?" The startled Decepticon Lord asked with incredulity. He had never even _heard_ of this planet or of this community of neutrals and they had a seat in the Galactic Council!? How had Decepticon Intelligence or even Autobot Intelligence never caught a whiff of this!?

The red and blue mech just smiled with another shrug. "Sure. For about a hundred years now, though I wouldn't be surprised if you haven't heard of the Independent Cybertronian Republic. I don't have the time to go to most Galactic Council meetings. We're a recognized political and legal entity and as of fifty years ago, since we picked up the name Independent Cybertronian Republic of Earth, we have the right to the territory of this galaxy. Since no one had ever been interested in this quadrant before, we only had to argue with the Quintessos, since they tried to make grabs for other planets here. As if we'd let them." He huffed and Sari echoed him.

"They wanted to take our Sun! They were going to charge us a hundred credits per hour of sunlight!"

"The squids _are_ nothing short of spike-sheats," Megatron agreed with a disgusted scowl on his face, earning a giggle from Sari. Optimus just gave a little smile. It definitely suited him. The humorous moment was interrupted by Hook clearing his vocalizer. The conversing trio turned their attention to the looming medic.

"I don't mean to sound rude, Lord Megatron, Prime, but I have an appointment in half a joor and I'd like to check Lord Megatron to see if he is clear for that tour you mentioned, if you don't mind." He may have worded it politely but there was that edge in his voice that all medics seemed to have onlined with that promised a _very_ uncomfortable check up next time if you didn't listen to him _now_. Megatron recognized it well and knew better than to annoy his former CMO, nodding his assent.

Optimus nodded as well. "Don't let us keep you. We'll be outside, so in case he is cleared, we can give him a tour and find him quarters to stay in until he is ready or wishes to leave." He gave one more nod to Megatron and Sari waved at him as the two left. Megatron stared after the civilianframe before turning his attention to his old friend as Hook got down to business. The medic saw the expression on his face and chuckled.

"Ah, that would be Optimus' standard effect on everyone, my Lord," he said before Megatron could voice any comments or questions. He just shut his intake and listened to Hook as he talked. "It is rather rare to meet a true neutral, let alone find yourself in a Galactic Council recognized state full of them. He speaks the truth, my Liege. There are no factions here, no caste system, no traces of functionist regime. We all live here in harmony and peace. We are not a military base, though we do have an HQ and plenty of weapons to defend ourselves should anyone present themselves as aggressors to us. And though Optimus Prime is the leader and representative of all those who live here, he isn't a supreme ruler of any sort. There is no command structure here. Everyone can be anyone they want to be as long as they don't cause trouble."

"And yet from the amount of respect I hear in your voice and feel in your field, something tells me everyone naturally falls behind Optimus Prime," Megatron observed with a wry twist of amusement to his intake. Embarrassment colored the medic's EM field and it was more than enough of an answer. "We've searched for you, Hook. Your brothers are still searching. I've yet to declare you KIA, even though that had been the most obvious conclusion. Why did you never come back?"

"I ... I wanted to, my Lord. I still do. But I refuse to leave Optimus without at least _one_ trained medic to treat the mecha here and train new medibots. Forgive me," the gestalt bowed his helm in apology, but not in shame. "You must understand. Optimus was the one who saved me from the Quintessons and the Autobots. Had it not been for him, I would have surely offlined. He helped nurse me back to health and I was going to leave when a ship of refugees found us and a lot of them needed surgery. So I stayed to help. And then, just as those bots were recovering, we found a near offlined Decepticon in space and I stayed to treat him, too. It continued on like that until I realized I will stay with Optimus until my brothers find me. He needed help, appreciated it as though he had never had assistance before, and that is how I have found myself here, three hundred stellar cycles later, treating _you_ again, of all mechs." He chuckled wryly and even Megatron smirked at the irony of it all. "Perhaps it is a good thing I have stayed. You were in bad shape, my Lord."

And that brought Megatron to the _really_ important question. "How is it that I am still online? I know what my fate was to be, Hook. That ship was going to crash. There was nothing that could have prevented it."

"_Optimus_ prevented it," Hook replied in a grave tone of voice. "I wish I could tell you more, Lord Megatron, but only those who wish to _stay_ know how and why it is possible."

"Do _you_ know?" The gray Decepticon asked curiously and Hook nodded.

"Yes, as I am often placed as Optimus' primary physician. Hound is a competent mech, Ambulon is skilled, Knock Out is better for hardcore surgeries after battles than he is for more everyday medicine, Gadget is still a bit too fidgety and is still in training and Jolt is best at stabilizing a mech's spark and overcharged circuits but they are still too young and a bit too inexperienced for my tastes to be treating some of the things Optimus can get up to. Optimus is this community's first and strongest line of defense. We must keep him healthy so that this miraculous peace he's built here can last." Hook gave Megatron a very meaningful look, one that made the Decepticon leader a bit uncomfortable. "All creatures love Optimus. He treats everyone as an equal, with respect and care. He gives everyone a chance. The Independent Cybertronian Republic has _many_ allies, my Liege. It is very strong."

"I have no plans of ever making an enemy out of it, Hook, nor out of Optimus. He is far too ... intriguing," the cannon-totting mech replied carefully and saw how Hook's plating settled a little looser around his protoform. Yes, Optimus was very intriguing indeed, if he has Hook this overprotective. "I think I would rather wish to get to know him better and make an ally of him."

"He won't fight our war."

Megatron barked out a laugh at that. "I don't want a _war_ ally, my friend. I want one I can have in _peace_. We need better trade routes, Hook. We need better economy. Maybe Optimus can help us with that."

"If that is all his lordship wants from the Prime." Oh, no. Megatron knew that tone of voice. He knew that smirk, too. It promised insufferable amounts of teasing. The gray mech glared at his medic, who was the one to bark out a laugh this time around. "Worry not, Lord Megatron. You will find Optimus most charming. That is, after all, why there are so many mecha willing to go through the gates of the Pit for him."

Megatron's optics only narrowed further and he stood up, on instinct trying to appear more menacing. "Hook, if you are _implying_-"

"You have a perfect bill of health, something you ought to thank Sari and her AllSpark Key for, so you are free to go on your little tour, my Lord." The other interrupted and all but started pushing the gray mech out of his medbay. He opened the door and _shoved_ the Decepticon Lord out, making him stumble and nearly crash into Optimus and a new mech, a dark teal minibot with strange, half crazed purple optics, Sari flying out of the way before she might get smacked by him again. "Ah, Wasp! Just in time! Let's see how those additives are working for your processor." The medic ushered the twitchy minibot inside and sent Megatron one last disturbingly familiar smirk. "Have fun, my Lord!" And the medbay doors slid shut with finality, leaving Megatron crowding Optimus in against the opposite wall until Sari cleared her intake or whatever it was that humans called it.

"My apologies," Megatron said as he stepped out of Optimus personal space. "Hook can become overbearing in some situations."

Oprimus only arched an optic ridge and smiled. "You're telling me." The larger mech chuckled. He guessed Hook must be even worse towards someone of Optimus' size. "So you're clear?"

"Yes. All ready for my tour."

The smaller mech nodded and Sari released a high-pitched sound of excitement. "Good. Come on. I think you might like it here."

"We have _so_ much to show you!" The little femme immediately started listing off dozens of places and Megatron could only look over to Optimus, who smiled sheepishly at him, shrugged and kept walking.

Megatron would deny that he was excited to his dying breath.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thief**

**Summary: Ancient cities and artifacts of great power don't just disappear on their own! The number of defections rises. A group of washouts and a warlord wind up on a world unlike any they've seen before and the leader is interesting enough. Peace. Equallity. And no factions, put your weapons down, Primus damn it!**

Just as its name suggested, Metroplex was a truly Cybertronian city, if of a very old design that had its own set of charms. The buildings were high and wide enough to accommodate hundreds of bots, far taller than anything built by the organics of this planet. They reminded Megatron a little of the Towers from the early days of the caste system regime, only, like the inspiration for the Towers, these giant buildings were inhabited by mechs and femmes of all sizes, frame types and economic statuses. The city wasn't overly colorful, unlike what he heard Autobot cities were these days on Cybertron. The predominant colors were usually the more neutral ones that both civilians and warframes liked, such as white, red and gray with occasional blue or purple here and there. The streets were wide from the bottom of the buildings to their very tops, allowing all frame types a comfortable passage, no matter their size or alt mode, which Megatron had never seen for all his long millions of stellar cycles of function. He was so used to Autobot cities like Iacon, Tyger Pax, Praxus and the such with their narrower roads and bridge-connected buildings for easier grounder passage, meant to accommodate _only_ civilianframes, as opposed to Decepticon cities like Kaon, Tarn, Rodion and such similar cities, whose buildings were spirals that allowed more space for flight than driving. Vos was even weirder, meant only for seekers, a _flying city_ that traveled the skies of Cybertron, and so had its own architecture type that would at times be copied elsewhere for aesthetics alone.

A city meant to accommodate _all_ of the vastly different frames, from grounder civilians to ground warframes to every type of flightframes, was almost _unheard_ of. All the cities that _may_ have once been home to such a mixed society have either been remodeled or abandoned for time to take care of, like Astroplex - well, at least until it had disappeared without a trace. Or, in the case of Kalis, which had once accommodated both civilianframes and warframes, such cities were mostly taken apart and their materials were used to make new cities. Kalis hadn't even been fully abandoned when it was taken apart for its metal! They call its small ruins the city of the dead and it is close enough to the Sea of Rust for the Autobots to blame _that_ on the name despite _them_ being the ones that had looted those metals in order to build the Crystal City. Not that the Decepticons hadn't taken some of those materials as well, for their ships when the war started.

Megatron had only ever seen remains or old, blurry holovids and pictures of those once glorious cities that welcomed all Cybertronians, if not their ruins. Metroplex was far from a ruin and it was definitely real. Its towering buildings reached high into the sky and there were several sub-levels for groundframes to drive on. There were very few bridges between buildings, spares and movable for the sake of the fliers as to not inhibit their routes of travel. Megatron doesn't remember the last time he had seen traffic lights and direction pointers hovering that high in the air. It must have been millennia! The most dominant features of the city, however, were four buildings that Megatron would recognize almost anywhere, even if they were not _those_ exact buildings, but replicas.

The Fortress Maximus look-alike must be the headquarters Hook had mentioned. It was massive, heavily fortified and heavily armed with gigantic cannons that could knock anything out of the sky. Pit, Megatron wasn't sure, but he thought those cannons were even _bigger_ than the ones in Iacon! The building right next to it was almost as famous. That had to be a library or an archive, because it greatly resembled the Hall of Records from Iacon. The similarities were uncanny. On the other side of the HQ building was something that resembled the current Autobot Academy, only Megatron could see various flightframes, mostly elegant seekers, circling around it and that left him wondering what was there. The presence of seekers usually indicated something resembling a youth sector, but that would imply there were enough young ones around to _need_ a youth sector. And the final building was _unmistakable_. Even if Megatron had lost both optics in the fall through Earth's atmosphere, he would have still recognized the building as inspired by the Primal Basilica. It even _pulsed_ with the same energy, sending gentle vibrations through the air every now and then. It made the Decepticon leader just how much effort was put into this city.

And it was well inhabited. In fact, Metroplex was populated by far more mecha than Megatron would have first thought. He doesn't remember the last time he had seen so many different Cybertronians in the same place while they _weren't_ shooting at each other. There were dark and looming, red-opticked former Decepticons in all their warframe glory, save for the Decepticon sigil they had once proudly sported and fought under, and the much smaller, colorful, bright, blue-opticked civilianframes, also free of their Autobot badges, walked contentedly down the same streets, entering the same shops, buying treats at the same places, talking, _laughing_, Pit, some were even _holding hands_! He had never thought this possible before. How could it have been, when in peace, warframes were considered too high maintenance to keep, what with their larger energon consumption. Yet here his once soldiers walked around, free and well polished and obviously not hungry, chatting and playing and _flirting_ with what must have been former Autobots, the very former Autobots they have once _shot_ at. The old warlord had to reset his optics several times to make sure he wasn't dreaming. He wondered briefly if he had actually indeed offlined and was now in the Well, one with the AllSpark, his weary spark finally finding some semblance of peace. Because this was simply unbelievable.

And then there were the organics native to this planet. Not just these ... humans, which Sari is by half, but strange furry, fuzzy or feathered little creatures making a lot of noise. They were all over the place, playing with littler humans or running around on their own. It was loud and made it difficult to walk around without taking great care as to where you step. Thankfully, there weren't all too many of them around, though some turned to give Megatron an interested glance or stare at him for a short while before returning to their own business. Apparently they were well used to new arrivals if they didn't make a fuss about it, though some curious organic-optics lingered on his Decepticon insignia smack in the middle of his chest plates. They were used to that, too, but seemed to be making what Megatron thought might be bets on how long it will _stay_ there. Apparently, there were plenty of new arrivals that decided to stay for good if he was being given such looks. It made him wonder just how well Cybertronian-populated Earth _really_ was.

What had him stopping in tracks was when Optimus was tackled to the pedes by a group of small sparklings, four roughly the size of an average human and one considerably bigger and _darker in colors_. Megatron could do nothing but stare and struggle to get some atmosphere into his vents to help his cooling systems regulate his frame temperature as Optimus bent down and picked up all five sparklings and started _cuddling_ them, even the one oh so obviously a warframe. The young ones giggled and chirped in delight as the young mech put them all into the crook of his servo and started tickling their thin plating. Sparklings. True _sparklings_, not clones or little protoforms. Sparklings. Mrgatron wasn't sure he had seen more than a handful of sparklings in his long his spark gave a sharp pang and his coding, the one demanding he _protect_ Cybertronian civilians and young, almost came online had he not stomped on it at the last klik. It had taken long enough to counter those protocols to start the revolution that freed his people from the oppression they were suffering under. He can't let them online _now_. They were still at war!

The Cybertronian Republic wasn't ...

He looked down when he felt a curious poke to his pede and his crimson eyes locked with equally red ones of a femme sparkling with a seeker frame, little wings trilling when she got his attention. She made a few chirps and the universal 'pick me up' motion with her tiny servos and Megatron complied, spark beating like crazy as he oh so carefully picked up the delicate little creature. She gave a little thrill of excitement when she found herself so high up and started exploring his massive black servo. She was smaller than the other Decepticon sparkling. Typical, for a seeker and a femme one, at that, though the difference in mechs and femmes amongst warframes wasn't all that noticeable. He hungrily drank in the sight of her as she walked all over his servo and even nuzzling one of his digits before reaching out with her servos for him once more. He gave in and rested their forehelms against each other, chuckling warmly at another delighted thrill. He cooed at her in what little Vosian he knew and his spark all but melted when she cooed back. She, a sparkling that couldn't have been older than a couple of stellar cycles, if even that, was cooing at _him_, the big bad Decelticon warlord. It warmed his spark. This ... This is what he had initially fought for, for their young ... How had a revolution to save his people became a war?

He looked up when he noticed optics on him and registered the sound of barely suppressed giggles. He glared at Sari, which only made her laugh harder, before turning a challenging gaze at Optimus, who had stopped his own cooing at the sparklings in his servos to observe the warlord with an incredibly warm smile on his incredibly pretty faceplates. Megatron looked away, embarrassed, but didn't put the little femme down until Optimus put his own group of sparklings down and told Sari to help them find their caretaker. He reluctantly let go of the little femme and watched as she held servos with a femme civilianframe sparkling, looking over her little wings and waving at him with a big smile on her faceplates.

When was the last time he saw a warframe smiling?

Optimus let him have a moment, just standing quietly by his side, not saying a word. He was probably well aware what this ... Utopian city he had built did to mecha like Megatron, who had known only battle and war their entire functions. When the sparklings and Sari were long out of sight, Megatron saw Optimus shift and directed his piercing gaze to the red and blue mech. Optimus gave him and understanding smile before tilting his head towards what appeared to be an oil house. "You must be hungry. I promise you'll have an energon dispenser in your accommodations, but how do you feel about a barrel of hot oil?"

"That would be marvelous," the gray mech replied and followed Optimus into the bar. 'Swerve's', the sign read. That sounded awfully familiar. And he saw why when his optics fell on the barkeeper. An involuntary groan escaped him and both Optimus and Swerve laughed good naturadely at his dismay. Thankfully, Optimus had mercy on him and ordered two barrels to go and they were walking through the crowded but peaceful streets of Metroplex once again. "This place is truly incredible," Megatron said after a sip. Organic fuel made of fossils mixed with the standard fuel Swerve had brought with him and just a touch of high grade and rust sticks. Optimus said it was Swerve's best blend yet. Apparently, through Swindle and the Quintessons, Swerve's bar was an intergalactic hit as _everyone_ liked the exotic blend even though they had no idea what was in it. It brought in millions of credits and made deals with Swindle less of a rip off. Optimus said Cybertronians helped humans harvest more solar and cosmic energy in exchange for their standard fuel. A fair trade all around, like everything else seemed to be here. Megatron was greatly impressed.

"We try," was the humble response as Optimus sipped at his own drink. Megatron glanced down at him and was intrigued by the play of light on the other's plating. There were strange designs imprinted on the younger mech's plating and when the Sun hit them just right, they looked white, not silver like Megatron had first thought them to be. The rest of his paint job reminded Megatron of a play of flames. He wasn't sure there was a right description for it, other than it suited Optimus perfectly. "Everyone here works for their fill, we all constructed the Republic into what it is today. We have visitors often, be they injured mecha or random travelers or people lost on a mission. Not everyone stays." As was evidenced by the rare few mecha Megatron had seen still wearing their symbols, like himself. The Decepticons had been quick to bow their helms to him while the Autobots had changed direction and all but fled at the sight of him. He'd had to reassure his soldiers that the DJD won't come after them for taking the time to let their wounds heal. How they got all the way to _Earth_ he didn't bother asking, as he _himself_ didn't know how he had arrived here. "I wish they did, but I won't keep them here against their will. I only ask that they not report of our existence here to their superiors, who would wish to court martial anyone here."

"I have already made my vow that I won't bother your people. Even when I eventually leave," Megatron said, feeling the need to remind his smaller companion of this fact, even though he didn't exactly know _why_ he wanted Optimus to think well of him. He thought about Hook's words, how Optimus had such an effect on everyone, and found it an inadequate explanation. He had _hardly_ ever been like 'everyone else'.

The smaller bot just smiled up at him, a bit sad, but there was no suspicion in his gaze like there had been when he had given his word the first time around. "I know. It's not you I'm worried about. It's the Autobots."

An optic ridge climbed and Megatron tried not to appear too interested as they continued walking towards a strange green surface. The air smelled differently here, a ... saltier scent on the wind, a bit more refreshing, if he was honest, and not at all like in the city. There was something like a mountain in the distance. "Those four worry you? They don't appear to be warriors and their ship was in too poor a state to give you any true trouble."

But Optimus only shook his head as he threw his empty can into a recycling trash bot and Megatron finished his, doing the same, seeing as there didn't appear to be any more of those drones where they were headed. "It's not _them_ that I'm worried about. Well, not in that sense. They want to talk to me, so I can deal with their worries accordingly after I have a word with them. No, what worries me is the ship they came in. The Elite Guard might want it back."

"Why is the ship worrisome?"

Those blue optics looked up to him, startled. "You didn't recognize it?" Megatron shook his head and Optimus pursed his lip plates in thought. He had to avert his gaze to prevent himself from staring. They were almost upon the green area and he now saw that it was all organic, from the soil to the vegetation that lived on it. It was one of those ... islands, if he wasn't wrong, that organic planets tended to develop if they had larger bodies of surface water. "Then perhaps it's best for everyone that I don't tell you."

The Decepticon didn't like being left in the dark but conceded. Optimus was only trying to maintain the peace of this community ... Though _community_ didn't sound right now that Megatron knew the size and the population of this city. "If you think it wise." Oh, look. The red and blue mech looked uncomfortable and guilty to be keeping it from him. That was adorable. "So, where to next?"

That, at least, put a smile on those blue dermas as they entered what looked like a forest. "Well, I'll just briefly show you Dinobot Island and then we'll cross over to Detroit so I can introduce you to the mayor, Professor Sumdac - Sari's sire - and Captain Fanzone so they know you're not a threat."

"Do you get threats often? And why call it 'Dinobot Island'? What's a _dinobot_?" Optimus opened his mouth, about to answer, when a deafening roar echoed throughout the forest and beat him to it. Megatron's cannon came online instantly, reaching into his subspace for his swords, but Optimus stilled his servos before he could fire at whatever was charging at them from the tree line.

"Well, you asked and you're about to find out."


	5. Chapter 5

**Thief**

**Summary: Ancient cities and artifacts of great power don't just disappear on their own! The number of defections rises. A group of washouts and a warlord wind up on a world unlike any they've seen before and the leader is interesting enough. Peace. Equallity. And no factions, put your weapons down, Primus damn it!**

Megatron let out a string if curses when three incredibly strange looking metallic creatures that were giving off a Cybertronian signal burst through the bushes and trees and made a straight line for him and his smaller companion. Without much thought, he grabbed Optimus, who gave a startled yelp, and activated his turbo-thrusters to maximum power and launched them into the sky, out of harm's way. Optimus twisted around a little to grab a tight hold on his upper arm and long, _long_, shapely legs wrapped around a black and red waist, as if also on instinct, because he let out an annoyed groan when he apparently realized what he had done because he let go and allowed Megatron to be his only support. Not that he was particularly heavy for the warframe.

Though he wished he could hold him better when he realized that one of those three mechs had some antique, organic-like type of flight mechanism as it involved waving the bot's servos up and down for the metal connected to servos and body like a pair of wings to catch air and keep the mech off the ground. Megatron snarled and got three in response and Optimus was suddenly cursing in his hold.

"Watch out!"

The warning came almost too late as all three mechs started _breathing fire_ at him and the Decepticon had just a second to evade the attack, returning fire with a powerful blast from his Fusion Cannon, making Optimus curse even more. The four battling mechs ignored him as they continued posturing, exchanging fire every other second until a tree caught aflame. That was when Optimus apparently had enough.

"_Shut up_!" He yelled over their growling and snarling, starling the four much bigger Cybertronians with those two words into silence and stillness. Thankfully, none of them had launched an attack at the other or else someone would have gotten hurt. As it was, they were just stunned by the volume such a small bot had produced and by the suddeness of the yell, which gave Optimus the opportunity to twist around and point his arm at the burning tree. Megatron startled again when fire extinguishing foam was ejected and started dousing the tree. The fire was out in a manner of minutes. Optimus sighed in relief before leveling a glare at each of them. "Land," came the command when narrowed blue optics focused on him and for once Megatron did as he was told instead of snarling at the order. Optimus apparently had the same gift for that medic-tone. You know, the one that told you you'd better obey or else you're in for a world full of pain? Sure, Optimus was not a medic and was much smaller than him but he had allies. He could probably follow through on that tone in his own way.

He kept a watchful optic on the three beast-like mechs as his pedes touched the organic soil, repressing the urge to fire at them when they suddenly transformed to root mode. The biggest came up to around his chin and had a strange mandibula with big fangs. All three of them were mostly gold and red in color, though the smallest, skinnies had some blue as well and the widest, spikiest and a bit stumpy one with his middle height had some black. The largest one was predominantly gold and all three of them had blue optics - and visor, in the case of the tallest one - and talon-like digits. They towered over some of the trees and Optimus a great deal, but it would appear that the smallest present bot was more than used to it. He was larger than most standard Autobot designs but was still shorter and lighter than the smallest Decepticon by a helm and a half at the least. But he was the leader and representative of the Cybertronisn Republic, which was home to both civilianframes and warframes. He _had_ to be used to mechs much bigger than him.

The two smaller mechs looked adequately cowed by the glare Optimus was leveling them, but the biggest one was still growling like a beast. Something the red and blue firetruck mech didn't appreciate. "Grimlock! Behave!" He snapped and the mech, Grimlock, growled at him as a response. Optimus bared his own blunt dentae at the beasformer and growled out a warning "_Grimlock_," and the bigger mech conceded with a petulant huff. The little leader returned the huff with a snort, freed himself of Megatron's hold, landed on his own two pedes and crossed his arms over his chassis. "I know you were excited to see me but _play nice_. We have a new guest. If you cause him trouble, I'll tell Elita."

"No!" Megatron's cannon came back online at the loud yell and he manually stomped down on his battle protocols. It was hard to do when the three lurched towards his only guarantee of protection on this strange world and himself, seeing as he was a warrior first. He'd fought too long for his protocols not to react. He'll have to tune them down a bit if he wanted to keep his promise of not causing harm or problems. He was too curious about the way of life these bots all shared, about this glimpse of peace he had caught here, to leave before he himself chose. The three gold colored bots were giving Optimus panicked and pleading looks. "Please not tell spider-lady!"

"Please not tell me what?" A new, feminine voice asked and all three beastformers cowered while Optimus sighed in something like exasperation at the rather ... dramatic appearance. Megatron could only reset his optics as a yellow and light purple femme with some strange organic-based alt mode designs decorating her frame sauntered into the clearing this whole mess was taking place, a swagger to her hips. She had Autobot blue optics, but two pairs of them under a strange helmet. When she smiled, she revealed fangs. Megatron thought she'd look better with black and gold on her armor and red optics. It would only be fitting with those fangs. They were very Decepticon-like. He himself had them. "And, Optimus, I thought I told you to call me Ariel. It's not as if I can ever go back to being Elita One again." There was some bitterness to the words, but she mostly sounded teasing and accepting of her fate. The gray warlord wondered what had happened to her. Four blue optics took in the situation and she seemed to arch an optic ridge at Optimus when they skimmed over Megatron. "Not that I need introductions, but aren't you being a bit rude? It's only proper to introduce our new guest to us and us to him."

Optimus seemed suspicious at the leering way the femme was looking at him. It reminded Megatron of how he himself had looked at Hook just a couple of joors ago. He wondered if that was his exact expression, because Ariel's almost matched Hook's. The self-proclaimed Prime still followed through with the introductions, though never taking his optics off of the arachnid transformer. "This is the Decepticon Lord, Megatron, and he is our guest for now. Megatron, these are Grimlock, Snarl and Swoop, the Dinobots, and Ariel, my Amica Endura and one of our best scientists. This is their island by proxy of them being one of the only ones living here."

"Island belong to Dinobots!" Grimlock exclaimed and the flying Swoop and the pointy Snarl nodded in agreement. Both Ariel and Optimus looked plenty resigned but didn't bother correcting them.

"Metroplex surrounds Dinobot Island from three sides. People use it as a shortcut to get to and from the hospital and other businesses there or to enjoy a bit of nature. You'd be surprised by how many interesting things there are to be seen on this island. The volcano is long since dormant but has some interesting minerals that we use or help humans exploit. There's a mining post on the other side of the island, if you'd like to check it out later." The Decepticon arched an optic ridge at that, wondering if Optimus somehow knew he had been a miner in Tarn almost as long as he had been a soldier in the Cybertronian army before warframes started being considered as disposable tools and as a gladiator in the Pits of Kaon. He was well aware that most civilians only ever learned about the atrocities he had committed in the war and never even heard in passing as to what _led_ to him starting the war in the first place. Judging from the heat radiating from the other's faceplates, he knows and had proposed the venture for Megatron's sake. How very odd, like most else is in this city.

Ariel snickered, apparently having caught his questioning, curious and surprised expression. "Optimus has always been a history geek. Back in the Academy, he used to spend every free moment he had in the Hall of Records with old Alpha Trion, sorting and reading datapads, mostly historical ones. You could even say he's a bit of a secret fan. Did he ask you any questions about the war? Or to recite some of your old poems and speeches? How about _Towards Pe_-"

"Elita!" The Prime fairly yelped, scandalized, face heating even more, even taking on a slightly pinkish hue. Ariel only laughed and didn't bother to correct the name, firing some sort of organic web and swinging off, disappearing into the dense woods. The Dinobots seemed to have forgotten all about why they were excited to see Optimus and rushed off after the femme, once again transforming into their beast alt modes. That left an even more curious and surprised Megatron with an extremely embarrassed Optimus, who had a hand on his faceplate to hide his flustered state until he calmed down.

"She's an interesting bot," the warlord commented after a long pause of silence in which the only sound was the song of the organic flying creatures Megatron still didn't know the name of. His companion snorted and let down the servo, apparently collected enough to face the world again.

"That's an understatement of the vorn, but that's Elita One for you. Though you should probably call her Ariel." At the pointed look from the larger mech, Optimus snorted. "I'm her Amica Endura. I can get away with it. Anyone else will just get a shot of venom for their trouble." He started walking again and the warframe followed.

"I see." Silence fell between them again, neither sure what else to say. A topic was on the tip of Megatron's glossa, a question, but he changed it for another. It didn't appear to be the right time for that, not now. "And what of those ... Dinobots. I've never seen creatures like them and yet they bear a strong Cybertronian signal."

Optimus hummed before replying. "They're the creations of the AllSpark, one of several that appeared here on Earth. Sari's Key, which carries the AllSpark's energy and some of its power, tends to react to more compatible machines humans created. It sees a potential in them for sentience and sapience, so it gives them a spark. Anything Cybertronian that they lacked, the spark helped reformat and so here they are."

"So they're not the only beasts running around?"

"Oh, no! Those were the Dinobots as a whole. No more Dinobots here." Optimus reassured him with a laugh. The air smelled of forest and that intriguing salty fragrance the further they got away from the city. Megatron wondered what was on the other side to create that refreshing smell. "We had others, though. Soundwave, Wreckgar, Dirtboss - no one likes him, though, and he had to be put in prison when he tried to control several bots and cause humans quite a bit of trouble - Slipstream, Ramjet and Sunstorm - an _entire_ seeker trine, can you believe it? - and twins Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. You better avoid those two, they're trouble makers. There were other instances with the AllSpark key, like when it all but revived Mixmaster and Scrapper, or rebuilt most of Dirge's sparkchamber before he could extinguish or when we exposed Ariel to the AllSpark itself to purge her organic half even if her alt mode sta-"

"Wait, you have the AllSpark _here_!?" Megatron had thought that this AllSpark Key had been created on Cybertron, despite Optimus telling him Sari had been gifted with it here on Earth. He had obviously not been listening well enough to have missed such an important detail. He was either getting old or negligent. Though you _could_ blame the fact that he had nearly offlined not that long ago, but Megatron had never been one to accept or use excuses. It was through his own lack of attention that he only _now_ realized this important fact.

Optimus looked up at him and reset his optics slowly. "Yes," he drew out the reply before his optics narrowed and he tensed, as if expecting an attack. He must have remembered what Megatron had been after since the end of the war. He probably expected Megatron to go back on his word and fight his way to the AllSpark.

The warlord in question took in a deep vent before asking a very frustrating question. "I have been searching for it for orns. How have you found it?"

Optimus didn't relax, but he won't be the one to throw the first punch, either. "It kind of found me as soon as I left Autobot space. I was just cruising around when it practically _materialized_ out of nowhere in the holding bay. I didn't look a gift horse in the mouth-"

"What?" The confused Decepticon asked with a confused frown and that actually made Optimus smile and some of the tension left his frame.

"An Earth idiom implying that you don't ask questions when something good happens and just accept it. Anyway, I didn't question it and just thanked the Thirteen someone found it before our race is ed to extinction, what with the war and no access to either the AllSpark or Vector Sigma. As you saw, it allowed us to spark new life, although the sparklings here are all mostly born. Not enough protoforms to spark them."

And Megatron could do nothing but stare at him, processor blank to prevent it from overheating at all the implications. Here, millions of light years away from Cybertron, Cybertronians lived as one, united people in peace and harmony, no matter the frame type, and they were not faced with the fear of extinction. In fact, the peace was so solid that there were same-type and _mixed_ couples who were creating _sparklings_ together. The sparklings here weren't from Vector Sigma. Their bodies weren't made up of the same preprogrammed protoforms that Autobots used these days. Their sparks hadn't been 'cultivated' for hundreds if not thousands of stellar cycles before they received their frames. The spark decided the frame type. Just like in the born sparklings. _Born_ sparklings! Megatron hadn't thought he would ever see a carrying mech. For all his vorns of life, he'd only ever _heard_ of that. His systems knew it was possible. He knew it had at one point been just one of the ways their species reproduce. It should have been normal, but the wars Cybertron fought, both against the invading Quintessons and the civil war, had caused a drop in favor until no one bothered to create a sparkling from their _own_ spark.

Metroplex was indeed Utopia. The tolerance here seems to be high for _everything_. Pit, they were living with _organics_. Megatron wasn't exactly fond of them, but the Decepticons didn't like organics due to bad past experiences with them. Autobots were simply xenophobic. They _hated_ organics. And yet firmer Autobits _and _Decepticons both not only _lived together_ but they _lived with organics_! Sparklings. Equality. Peace. Rights for all. Enough fuel that they weren't on rations, that they could open _bars_ and make _exotic blends_. Medical care. Safety. The support of the Galactic Council, as supportive as those glitches can be towards Cybertronians. Free movement. Access for all to the AllSpark. A home. A home to be _proud_ of. To fight for with your very spark because you _wanted_ to protect it, not because it was expected.

It was _everything_ Megatron had wanted Cybertron to be, and yet it could only happen here, so far away from their home. Under the rule of a neutral that had been an Autobot but accepted _all_ with open servos, as long as everyone was willing to keep the peace.

He was overwhelmed and for the first time wondered if his optics might release sparks and coolant.

"Are you okay?" A concerned Optimus asked, breaking him out of his daze. He hadn't even realized he had come to a stop and Optimus had stopped with him. Those blue optics were both a balm to his spark and a sharp reminder of what he and his people could never have. "You're not going to blow us up for the AllSpark, are you?" It was asked in a joking manner but there was a reasonable undercurrent of wariness there as well. Optimus was no fool. If he knew about his mining days, then he probably knew about the horrors he had committed. If he was indeed a 'history geek', as Ariel said, then he knew and he knew to be wary.

"I gave you my word," he repeated for the third or fourth time in the past joor or so. He had a suspicion he might need to keep repeating it a lot. For once, he wasn't bothered with having to repeat himself. He could understand. The Independent Cybertronian Republic was like nothing he had ever seen before and Optimus almost paranoia was well deserved. He had to keep it safe for it to _remain_ so peaceful. "No matter the circumstances, I will _not_ cause you and yours any trouble or grief. I ... I think it might be for the best if someone like you holds the AllSpark." He had obviously managed to startle Optimus with that statement and curiosity was winning the war with suspicion. He looked away, a wry smile on his intake. "This is possibly the only place where it made sense for it to be. People here have the time and temperament to properly raise _sparklings_. Everyone is safe here. I would not want to be the one to destroy this safe haven for our people." He looked back at Optimus, only to see him even more startled and with a blue servo covering his chestplates. He wondered whether he should be worried about that but there was no distress in Optimus' EM field so he let it go and started walking again, eager to find the source of that interesting scent in the air. "I know it is probably unwelcome, but I would give the Decepticon Empire's protection to this place. But that would only place you in danger with the threat of an Autobot attack. So I will not."

"The sentiment is appreciated," came the genuine reply and he looked over to his guide again, only to quickly avert his gaze. Optimus' lip plates were _made_ for smiling. It made him look _stunning_ and the reactions he was having to it made Megatron feel immature. "Although we don't really _need_ protection. Hiding in plain sight is the best protection we have. No one knows where'r here."

"Our species _does_ tend to be rather good at that." That got a small chuckled out of them both and all the remaining tension drained out of them. They continued their walk for a few more breems before the trees started parting and the salty air became stronger. Optimus grinned at him, obviously sensing his excitement and curiosity so clearly detectable in his field, and boldly grabbed his servo with his two smaller, blue ones, tugging him the last few mechanometers with a twinkling laugh. Megatron went willingly, wondering how long he can stay in this safe haven and enjoy his impromptu vacation.

The sight that greeted his red optics surely _had_ to have come from the Well of the AllSpark and no where else. The calm, clear, crystal blue surface of water that separated Metroplex and Detroit rivaled the beauty of Cybertron when looked upon from the atmosphere. He had never seen so much water in one place and it appeared to be the source of that refreshing fragrance that had been luring him so since they stepped foot on the organic island. Detroit was clearly seen on the horizon, looking tiny. It wasn't all that far away and there was a part of Metroplex stretching towards the shore where there were several bridges connecting the Cybertronian city with the human city. He could see some fliers making trips this way and that, boats sailing both ways and, if he focused his optics on the concrete and metal bridge, he could see groundframes driving to and from both cities. It was impossible to tell which were Cybertronians and which were Earth vehicles, as everyone had taken on a vehicle mode from the planet to better blend in should any threatening presence be there to scan the planet.

"Where are we going?" He asked his smaller companion, who only grinned at him. He didn't resist as Optimus guided them closer to the water. He saw that there was a big transport boat there with crates labeling elements and minerals, a few other bots also on the boat, sorting them and preparing them for transport. The vessel itself was mostly occupied, navigated and steered by humans that were scuttling about, checking if they were ready to set off.

"Detroit," Optimus answered and headed for the boat. The humans saw him and waved, curious organic-optics focusing in on Megatron. He could hear them exchanging some words, probably regarding himself, and ignored it. He has yet to visit this 'Internet' that Optimus had insisted would provide the most information regarding humans and their ways of life and their language. He figured he'll do it later, _after_ Optimus finishes the tour and goes to speak with those Autobots.

"It's across this body of water, yes?" Megatron asked and the self-introduced Prime gave him a confused glance over his shoulderstrut.

"Well, yes, but that's what the boat's for."

Megatron just gave him a smirk, all but plucked the firetruck from the ground, rearranged him so that one of his massive servos was under enticing thighs and knee struts while the other wrapped around a red back and activated his thrusters, taking off. The humans gave distressed yells as the power of his thrusters disturbed the sand on the beach and the shallows, rocking the boat. The civilians protested and cursed as they nearly fell off said boat.

His laughter echoed as much as Optimus startled curses did.


	6. Chapter 6

**Thief**

**Summary: Ancient cities and artifacts of great power don't just disappear on their own! The number of defections rises. A group of washouts and a warlord wind up on a world unlike any they've seen before and the leader is interesting enough. Peace. Equallity. And no factions, put your weapons down, Primus damn it!**

"Don't _do_ that!" Optimus protested as soon as Megatron landed. Whether the grounder meant the random picking him up and flying or the acrobatics he had done during said flying just now, Megatron didn't know but he was amused by how miffed Optimus was. It was endearing and funny and not at all like the usual calm and collected disposition the red and blue firetruck had been showing since their very first interaction. The warframe just smirked at his scowling companion, chuckling when Optimus only gave an exasperated huff. The thought that the other was far too used to this was even funnier than the other being miffed. "At least give me a _warning_ next time."

"You believe there will be a next time?" Megatron asked, just barely keeping the full measure of his amusement out of his voice. The snort he got in response was nearly too much for his restraint. It's been far too long since the last time he could have fun like this.

"You are hardly the first smartaft who thought it would be funny to randomly take my flying whenever they were bored and in need of entertainment. Or any other poor grounder. At least _I'm_ used to it. I pity those slaggers." It was too much. Megatron snorted once, twice before a barely cut off guaf escaped him before he could stop it. Optimus gave him an indignant look that had him laughing despite himself. Perhaps it was the peaceful, calming feeling he got from this place, perhaps it was the lack of optics constantly looking to him for answers, perhaps it was just how easy it was to be around Optimus Prime, but Megatron felt more relaxed than he had been since he had first onlined. It felt incredibly good to laugh again. It was even better when Optimus joined in with a few chuckles, too. Megatron relished in it. Laughter is not something you heard often in war or in exile. Even drunk laughter isn't like the content laughter he heard here. He wished he could give his soldiers, his people, this ... This _bliss_. They've been at war for _far_ too long. "Come on, let me give you a quick tour of the city and introduce you to some of my oldest friends here. And please don't react badly if some of the humans, especially the younger ones, approach you with devices pointed at you. They're cameras. Humans are a bit obsessed with things called Facebook, Instagram, Twitter and the such on the Internet and despite the long - for them - years we've all lived here, we're still as fascinating to them as always and you're new."

"I think my battle computer can make a difference between a recording device and a weapon." He couldn't help but sound indignant. Optimus snorted again.

"Crosshairs said that, too, as did Red Alert and Tailspin and they all freaked out when a camera flashed. Just consider yourself warned."

Megatron would have made a comment about that but realized they were well inside the city by now and humans were indeed stopping to stare and take pictures. What interested him were the half a dozen smaller humans that were running after him and Optimus, trying desperately to match their much longer strides. Optimus, who was half his height, needed to take two or three steps to match his one but the humans had no chance and seemed to be getting tired, so he stopped and looked down at them. He expected them to be scared, but they seemed as awed and delighted by him as that little femme seeker sparkling had been. The Decepticon Lord didn't usually get such reactions. They were gibbering excitedly up at him in their strange language so he resigned himself to downloading it to his processor. It took but a few kliks for that and for it to settle and suddenly the questions and exclamations the humans were making made sense. He arched an optic ridge at Optimus at some of the things asked or the excited requests, only to find Optimus deep in conversation with a blond, middle aged man with that strange thing called a mustache and a balding head dressed in some blue and cream colored cloth. The human would occasionally fling suspicious glances in Megatron's direction, but Optimus seemed to have it well handled.

Seeing as his companion was busy, Megatron turned back to the children. Some of them asked to see his alt mode, others asked why he was so spiky, a brave preteen asked if he would take him flying, two curious young teens asked about his cannon and any other weapons he might carry. A 'nerd' as the human dictionary and the Internet labeled him asked how well his thrusters helped him defy the laws of physics, an interesting teenage girl asked if he was going to choose an Earth-based alt mode, a young little girl asked him where he was from and there were so many other questions and he tried to answer them all to the best of his ability. They were so young, still sparklings by Cybertronian terms even if their maturity level ranged from younglings to mechlings and femmelings with only a couple of sparklings in the ever growing group of children around him. Their excitement and innocence prevented him from simply ignoring them or brushing their questions off. He even powered up his Fusion Cannon so they can hear how it worked but didn't fire despite some of them cheering him on. He remembered Optimus conditions well. He didn't want to leave yet. He wanted to see more of the community, as most called it, that Optimus had created here.

He did, however, indulge the children by showing off his alt mode or picking them up so they can gaze at their city from his servos. It was more of an ego boost than he needed to have them all so awed with his swords. Strika would be greatly dismayed to see the smirk currently on his dermas.

Optimus and his human conversation partner stayed away until the children finally said their goodbyes to the warlord, who was startled when one 'toddler' hugged his finger when he was shaking hands with his little digit with them all as a farewell. The firetruck had this dazzling smile on his own dermas, as if he had proven his point once again. Seeing how uncomfortable their species as a whole was around organics, he must take great pride in the way humans seemed to win everyone on this planet over. Or, well, _almost_ everyone. Some of the civilians still wearing their Autobot badges were avoiding contact with organics as though they carried the cybonic plague. Just your typical Autobot behavior. The little one almost fell asleep against his digit and his mother had to come to take him away, the little boy waving at him sleepily as he was carried away.

He was so glad none of his soldiers were around to see him all but melting around _organic_ children. His fearsome reputation would take a nosedive. Megatron once again wondered if he could somehow pin the blame for this on Optimus. Hook's words rang in his audials. If this is what he meant, Megatron wasn't sure if it was a good or a bad thing.

"Captain Fanzone, this is Megatron, the supreme leader of the Decepticons and one of our new guests. Megatron, this is the head of the Detroit police department, Captain Carmine Fanzone." The grounder introduced the warframe and the human, a smile still on his faceplates. Megatron bent down and offered a - gigantic to the human - black digit for a 'handshake', which the man accepted by carefully taking hold of the pointed claw.

"I prefer Fanzone, if you don't mind," the blond man said while keeping a still suspicious eye, as the humans called their optic sensors, on him.

"Not at all, Captain Fanzone. I would like to thank you for hosting my fellow Cybertronians on your planet despite how dangerous it might be for you. I must say your species is very brave."

In any other case, Megatron would have been affronted by the snort Fanzone released. "You were right. He _is_ a smooth talker." The organic said to Optimus, causing the warlord to send him a mildly offended and highly amused glance. He knew perfectly well about his own silver glossa and found it rather entertaining that Optimus felt the need to warn his precious humans of how manipulative he could be, if voiced in a much more diplomatic way. The other just shrugged, smile still in place. "But I think he can fit in. Welcome to Earth and to Detroit, Megatron. Just don't cause me any problems or break any laws and you and I won't have any problems. Unlike with _some_ bots."

And as if to prove his point, the sound of two powerful engines and screeching tires met their audials and ears respectively before two identical, save for their colors - one was golden and the other silver - cars tore down the road beside which they were standing at top speed, honking and throwing taunts at each other. Some of the normal human vehicles had to swerve away or were cut off as the two racers made theur way out of sight, several police drones going after them.

"Damn it, not _those_ two again!" Fanzone cursed and raced towards the streets, where a black and white car with the words 'To punish,' written in Decepticon purple but the new words 'serve and protect' were written in silver over where Megatron recognized once said 'enslave' in cursive as this was none other than the former Praxian enforcer that had joined the Decepticons and had vanished several stellar cycles ago, Barricade, was already waiting for him with an open door and a blaring siren. "See to it that he _behaves_, Prime!" Megatron was also startled to see the enforcer's partner Minicon, Frenzy, wave at them from the passenger seat before Barricade took off after the racers before either mech could do or say anything, even the sounds of the siren disappearing soon enough. The warlord wasn't really sure how to react so he looked towards his guide for, well, guidance.

"Should we help him?"

Optimus just sighed and rubbed at his nasal ridge. "No, Captain Fanzone and Barricade are more than capable to deal with Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. I just shudder to think what Knock Out will do to them if one of them scratches his finish. He's on his off-cycle now and he likes to ride around Detroit, too. He's from Tyger Pax, so you can just _imagine_ how vain he can be."

So it _was_ Barricade and, indeed, Franzy. And he had just seen the trouble-making twins Optimus had warned him about, the ones sparked by the AllSpark Key. "I take it things are always this lively around here?"

"Could be worse. As long as the seekers aren't preparing a race or if Wasp and Knock Out aren't racing or if Breakdown isn't arm-wrestling Skipper, we're all good and no one will end up in the medby and I won't have to explain anything to the mayor."

Megatron did his best to keep a straight face. It almost sounded as though Optimus were running a youth sector, not a Galactic Council recognized state! He shouldn't find his resigned tone so funny. Lugnut, Blitzwing and Starscream can be just as troublesome, especially if Strika and Shockwave were around. Lugnut got jealous of his Head of Intelligence and Strika and Starscream hated each other. Starscream may bear the title of his Second in Command but everyone knew it was his General of Destruction that truly held his audials. "Should we continue my tour or is it too dangerous?"

Optimus shot him a look but continued walking. Detroit was definitely done in an interesting mixture of Cybertronian design and standard human architecture. It was definitely fuel for thought as to how they accommodated the size difference for human needs, but Optimus informed him that the lower levels of the buildings were for grounders who decided to work in the city and the top floors were the same for flightframes. That was more unexpected than anything so far in Detroit.

"Are there many mecha who work here?"

Optimus shrugged. "I guess. I already told you we all out in a lot of work to make the Republic. We have all we need and bots get bored from doing _nothing_. Everyone wants to be productive every once in a while, so they team up with humans and help them out with various jobs and projects. Like Barricade or those doc worker bots you saw or the miners I've mentioned. Some bots are helping out scientists, others have joined the human military and are helping in keeling the world peace - we have no wish to fight unless we absolutely _have_ to and the humans would rather not face the consequence of dragging us into war - and training and teaching new recruits. We have ambassadors and politicians and economy bots and medics who learn human first aid. I myself sometimes help when there's a fire. We're definitely most popular and in demand on construction sites."

"No, listen to me! You need that crane to put that bar _on the left_, not the right! The stability of the whole building will be off if you put it on the right! A single little earthquake will be enough to knock it over like a card castle!" A distinctly Cybertronian voice yelled and Megatron was surprised when Optimus groaned. What a coincidence, that they were walking right past a big construction site as they were talking about Cybertronians getting jobs with human industries.

"No, _you_ listen to _me_, you oil-guzzler!" A human yelled through a megaphone at a _very_ familiar pair of mechs with construction alt modes and red optics. "I have a PhD in my field! I've been the architect of Sumdac Tower and that thing has withstood one of your robot buddies crashing into it! You do _not_ get to tell me how to do my _job_!"

"I built the building next to it that survived that _other_ building _you_ built falling onto it!" The cement truck yelled back at the human again, indignant and offended.

"Yeah! We know how to do _our_ jobs!" The excavator yelled in support of his companion.

"You have my _Constructicons_ here?" Megatron hissed at Optimus, part surprised, part angry and part indignant that _this_ is where two of some of his best builders from his unique construction team had ended up. There was some sort of irony in this, he was sure, that all of his lost soldiers ended up here.

To his surprise, Optimus gave him a flat look. "I have one of your _DJD members_ here."

Megatron's jaw dropped. He couldn't help it. It was too surreal.

The Constructicons and the architect continued yelling at each other not too far away. The humans and other constructions bots observed and placed bets.

Optimus just smiled and walked past him. "Shall we continue?"

The warlord threw one last glance at the construction site before following after Optimus. There was just something _about_ the mech. This bot was an enigma he swore to solve.

00000

Bumblebee had gotten bored.

he had gotten bored and so he had snuck out of the medbay after two joors of waiting for this Optimus Prime to talk with them. It was kind of annoying that Megatron was taking presidence, but he was a much bigger threat than a space bridge repair team, so Bumblebee guessed he understood. Didn't mean he was any less bored. Ratchet was being grumpy and demanding answers from that Hound guy, Bulkhead was content to look out of the medbay window and observe the strange new city they were in and Prowl was doing his meditation thing. Bumblebee was _bored_.

So he had snuck out. Everyone was too distracted to notice and he had remained surprisingly silent - take _that_, Prowl! - so he now found himself wandering the halls of the hospital they were staying in. Halls big enough to accommodate two Decepticons and an Autobot passing each other and more than tall enough so that even the biggest Decepticon wouldn't bump their helm in the ceiling. He'd even bore witness to it. None of the bots in question cast him a second glance. He wasn't all that sure whether that was a good thing or not. At least it meant they're safe and that that Hound and that Drift guy weren't pulling their stabilizers. Bumblebee thought that ought to make Ratchet feel a bit better about them apparently being in the same city as the Lord of the Decepticons.

And speaking of the Cons, Bumblebee ducked into a side hallway when he saw one passing by. A _real _Decepticon, with the purple Decepticon brand and all, reading a datapad and making his way who knows where. He was fragging _huge_. He looked like he had some sort of crane alt mode or something. He was mostly purple, black and _neon green_, of all things! Decepticons truly had no taste. The yellow minibot waited until the Decepticon passed before venting a long, loud sigh of relief and rushing back into what appeared to be the main, corridor, only to screech to a halt when something smacked into his chestplates and went "Oof!"

"Hey, what's the big idea?!" A small organic-looking creature with what appeared to be flight stabilizers keeping it up but with a definitely Cybertronian helm and Autobot blue optics complained, glaring up at him until it registered what it was seeing. "Oh! You're one of the new guys Optimus brought in! I thought you were still with Hound. Should you really be wandering off on your own?"

"What Ratchet doesn't know won't hurt him. Or me, for that matter." Bumblebee replied and smiled when the small creature giggled. "I'm Bumblbee, by the way. Nice wings." He said the last part a bit uncertainly, not accustomed to saying such things as usually bots with wings tried to slag Autobots. But it seemed to be the right thing to say as the orange creature's weak EM field pulsed in delight. He watched in amazement and shock as the metal plating of its helm retreated, reveling a very _not_-Cybertronian head that was _definitely _organic.

"Thanks! And I'm Sari Sumdac, a techno-organic. Welcome to Metroplex!" The little femme, Sari, extended her really small servo and Bumblebee offered his digit, watching in confusion as she moved it up and down with a surprising strength. Sari saw this and smiled. "I'm half Cybertronian, so don't be surprised if I hand you your aft in the training hall!"

"I like you," Bumbelbee said with a laugh and got another giggle from the little femme. "I'm surprised there are mini Cons like you running, or I guess flying, around. I always though they came in extra big packages."

Sari's optics were now very much organic but they still glowed like Autobot optics and clear confusion was shown in them. "Um, I think you're missing something. I may be half Cybertronian, but I am pretty sure that the Cons definitely come in a much bigger frame. There are no small Decepticons. And Minicons can't fly. I would know, I've met them. They usually prefer to help humans in keeping prisons in check if they're not keeping the prison under Sector 7 in order. And there are no factions here. I'm not a Decepticon, I'm half human, half Cybertronian!"

"Right, sorry. My bad." He hoped he hadn't offended his new friend-in-the-making, but she didn't appear to be angry, so that was good. "So, what do you guys do for fun around here?"

The grin on her faceplates reminded Bumblebee of his own when he got a chance to show off his speed and his spark skipped in excitement. Yes, he and Sari were sure to make good friends. But before they could go off on whatever adventure was sure to ensue, there was a clearing of a vocalizer that had Sari cringing and Bumblebee flinching where they hovered and stood, respectively. They both looked up at a rather regal looking mech that could give Ultra Magnus a run for his credits, despite him obviously being shorter than the Autobot Supreme Commander. His mere presence demanded attention and respect and despite having blue optics, there was no Autobot badge in sight.

"Uh, hey Prime," Sari greeted sheepishly and Bumblebee flinched again. _Of course_ it was the leader of these mechs. Figures he'd sneak off and run right into Optimus Prime. "We were just chatting. Nothing mischievous happening here. We wouldn't dare! Not after Sideswipe and Sunstreaker."

"I haven't said anything," came the amused response and then those blue optics shifted to Bumblebee. The young Autobot felt as though Prime could see right through him.

"Well, I was just making sure we were clear."

But Prime just shook his head at them and gestured for them to follow. "Come on. I need to talk with his unit and stop Hound from coming to sniff your friend out himself. You can go play later. We need to show them around and give them the usual briefing."

That seemed to snap Sari to attention and she gave a firm nod. She flew off after the red and blue mech and waved for Bumblebee to follow.

Having no other option, Bumblebee did.


	7. Chapter 7

**Thief**

**Summary: Ancient cities and artifacts of great power don't just disappear on their own! The number of defections rises. A group of washouts and a warlord wind up on a world unlike any they've seen before and the leader is interesting enough. Peace. Equallity. And no factions, put your weapons down, Primus damn it!**

Hound had not been happy when he realized Bumblebee had ran off and neither had Ratchet. Who knows what could happen to the loudmouthed mech if he ran into some Decepticon that won't bother with these apparent 'rules' that ran this place? The medic knew the kid could get into some serious slag if he wasn't watched. It made Ratchet snappier and grumpier than he usually was and for some reason, that highly amused his fellow field medic. When he snapped a demand as to what Hound found so funny, the younger medibot simply grinned around his ammunition shell.

"Drift was right. You _are_ really cranky."

He blamed his lack of a response to that on indignation and the opening of the medbay's doors, _not_ the shock of pleasure he got from learning that the former Decepticon talked about him. He actually wasn't even sure if he wanted to hear what Dea- Drift, _damn it!_ What Drift had to say about him to his fellow defectors. It couldn't be anything too nice or respectable. Not coming from a Decepticon, even one as polite sounding as De- Drift had always seemed. The cyberninja was a sly one and he knew how to amp up the charm when it was needed, like that one time on that one colony when their continued survival had depended on each other. "Bumblebee! What did I say about you running off on alien planets!? I should weld your aft to a wall and let you hang there until the message gets stuck in your processor!" Anger was a good cover for worry. It was a very Decepticon response, when he thought about it, one he wasn't sure whether he had developed on his own so he could make his patients listen to him or if it was a side-effect of his time spent with Drift (_Ha_! Managed it that time!) but either way, it made this dysfunctional crew listen to him. _Most_ of the time.

"_Chill_, Docbot, I'm _fine_. I just made a new friend and ran into the Bossbot here." The yellow minibot replied, gesturing first at a _flying organic with Autobot blue optics_ and then to a rather impressive looking civilianframe. Blue optics, red and blue plating covered in flame-like designs and strange silver-white markings, taller than most but not Bulkhead or Hound, the mech that had walked in after his youngest teammate radiated authority and serenity as though it was what naturally made up his EM field. Ratchet couldn't remember the last time he had met a mech who was so obviously a commander without needing anything to symbolically represent him as such. Actually, he could, but he'd rather not think about their too-close encounter with Megatron, even if it had mostly been through a screen. This bot, though, wore no badge or brand. His optics may be blue but the way he held himself was not how an Autobot commander would. There was no unnecessary ceremony, the organic was sitting on his shoulder and his stance was casually confident, relaxed, none of that stiffness an Elite Guard mech would hold himself with. He knew he was in charge and he didn't feel the need to show it.

For some reason, Ratchet was struck by the thought that Ultra Magnus and Megatron _both_ seemed so _small_ compared to the mech in front of him, despite them _both_ being _way taller_ than him. There was an air of power around this bot that made the old medic certain, to his very spark, that neither Supreme Commander could measure up to this mech.

But there was also a sense of safety there, too. The way those blue optics roved over the room and its occupants, lingering on each of them as though searching for signs of damage and the satisfaction and relief that flashed in them when none was found ... It made Ratchet wonder if it was genuine. It had to be. Drift didn't give his loyalty lightly. No cyberninja did. If they decide to be loyal to something or someone, they will stay loyal to them to their dying ventilation, the only exception being if their beliefs or their sparkmates are threatened. They had once been a regular part for the Primal Venguard, when it had still existed. Deadlock had been a part of it, had served Nova Prime with utmost loyalty, until evidence appeared that proved just how vicious and unjust the false Prime actually was. Deadlock had joined the Decepticon movement when the new regime proved that the removal of the false Prime hadn't changed the Council's modus operandi one bit. What the Decepticons stood for in the war was wrong and horrifying, but what they had started out as had been a noble cause.

Drift had left it. He had found two - three, if you count the Magnus joining with the Council - regimes unworthy of his loyalty, both Autobot and Decepticon, and yet he trusted _this_ mech. For Ratchet had no doubt this was the Optimus apparently-self-proclaimed-Prime that he had been hearing about. How Drift could choose to follow _another_ false Prime, military or political, when he had been so disgusted with the last one was a misery to Ratchet. Oh, he knew how a mech's beliefs can be altered. His plating still rattled at the name Trepan, but he was sure that Pit-spawn had been deactivated. At least he _hoped_ those rumors were true. They probably were. You were slag if you went after the Slagmaker himself. Since Megatron hadn't changed, Trepan was probably nothing more than a smear on some world. That would probably be the best thing that glitch-head had ever done for their race.

"Prime," Hound said, in a tone that surprised them all. It was full of respect and devotion and yet there was also clear affection in it as well. That was _not_ how you greet a commander, especially not one so shameless and presumptuous as to declare himself a _Prime_. "Good to see you. You never visit!" It was said jokingly and it only further stunned the group.

The red and blue mech looked over to the lumbering medic and smiled a genuine smile, another surprise. Ratchet didn't know if he remembered the last time he had seen a true smile on a Cybertronian face. Their war had taken a toil. Even the young new generations had enough problems that their smiles were not this free. "You may welcome me, Hound, but Hook tends to chase me away from the hospital to the best of his ability, so you can see the problem I'm having." The two shared a laugh while Ratchet found himself floored. His companions were too young to know about Hook, a legend among medics to rival Ratchet's own reputation from the war where the number of miraculously saved lives were concerned, and the head and shoulders of one of the Decepticon's greatest, deadliest most dangerous weapons, the combiner team of gestalts simply known as Devestator. A Decepticon through and through and Megatron's CMO and _personal physician_.

Shadow play and mnemosurgery was starting to seem even more likely.

"Don't forget Knock Out and his whining whenever he sees you scratched your finish!" The flying organic added with a giggle, which only caused more laughter at some inside joke that the Autobots weren't privy to. Ratchet gave Bumblebee a look, wondering if the speedster had managed to learn anything when he had decided to sneak of and managed to do it, but the yellow bot could only shrug helplessly, though he seemed curious about the three's interaction and especially the little organic. Prowl, too, looked interested, a fist since they've met the cyberninja. Figures he'd show interest _now_ of all times. Bulkhead was just politely watching what was going on and staying out of it. The old war medic couldn't believe he was left to watch out for these young bots all on his own, but that's what happens when you have a coward for a commander.

Ratchet cleared his vocalizer when the humor started subsiding, bringing the attention of the group back to their team. He crossed his arms and gave the self-proclaimed Prime a significant look and something in his EM field must have given him away as Hound's plating bristled almost aggressively, coming a step closer as though to protect the red and blue mech, but Optimus stopped him with a hand on his shoulderstruts. "It's okay, Hound. You should probably go. I heard Sunny and Sides need their dents pounded out and better you than Hook or Knock Out."

"Ambulon can do it," the bigger mech said, still staring Ratchet down. The three-shades of military green medic with a profound olfactory sensor wasn't willing to leave and Ratchet was suddenly painfully aware of the fact that this mech was more of a true _field_ medic than he had been. Ratchet had been a doctor before the war started. Had this bot ever been anything _but_ a field medic? He was armed to the dentae, quite _literally_! Ratchet only had his magnets, and as useful as they might be, he couldn't match the other's firepower with that alone. Hound was a soldier first. That he had the training to become a field medic was just a part of what he can do. And here he was, registering Ratchet as some sort of threat to the mech that was his commander and apparently sometimes patient.

_'This could get ugly,'_ he thought to himself and braced for a fight. It wasn't needed.

"Ambulon is in surgery, remember? Jolt and Gadget are helping him keep old Skyfire stable. And I shudder to think what Hook or Knock Out will do to the twins if they're the ones to treat them. They're only sparklings. We don't need them facing Decepticon medic temperaments just yet," Optimus reasoned and Hound slumped in defeat, shuffling out of the medbay with a glare at Ratchet and a hesitant look at the Prime. Prime only sent him a smile and Hound admitted defeat, letting the doors close behind him. The red and blue bot shook his head, and the organic on his shoulder giggled, before turning to look at the group of Autobots, expression very much neutral but somehow still welcoming. "I don't know how much you've been told, so I'll start with what I tell every new bot that comes here and stays for however long or brief an amount of time. I won't accept any disturbance of peace or you causing problems that might end up in someone getting hurt, in _any_ way. There are no factions here. If you can't live with that, then we'll give you quarters and fuel until your ship is repaired and you can go on your merry way. I know Autobots don't have too powerful weapons, but I will warn you anyway: the use of weaponry around sparklings or humans - the dominant organic life forms on this planet - is strictly forbidden. Don't provoke anyone or start any fights and don't try to steal anything. If you don't break any of these basic rules, you can stay as long as you wish. You are free to move around as you please as long as you don't intrude on anyone or don't cause property damage. You can ask me any questions and then I will give you a tour. If you want to see your ship, that will have to wait for a while, because our ship repair hanger is off limits to everyone except bots who work there." Optimus paused and gave Ratchet this certain look that froze the medic's energon in his tubing. No, he _can't_ know! "Don't worry, the Orion will be handled delicately and nothing will go missing."

Ratchet snarled, electromagnets coming out of his forearms without a thought. "As _if_! I know you have _Decepticons_ here! Do you _honestly_ believe I'll fall for this slag!? You'll take him apart for spare parts!" The electromagnets were crackling with charge, but Optimus seemed completely unconcerned. The little organic, though, surprised them by snapping a very Cybertonian mask in place, covering her entire helm and giving her true Autobot blue optics. Only she wasn't an Autobot. Not with how her servos opened up and revealed energy generators that Ratchet's systems registered as _integrated weaponry_. Like in a warframe. A _miniature_ warframe. What was _wrong_ with this planet.

"Sari, stand down," Prime said without averting his optics from Ratchet. "Field Medical Officer Ratchet, please power down your magnets. This city and everyone in it, on this very planet and in this small galaxy, is a part of the Independent Cybertronian Republic of Earth and are under my protection and authority as long as they are here. That includes unique bots, including your ... companion. No harm will come to him. Only people who wish to _stay_ here work in our ship repair hangar. The Orion will be returned to you in a perfectly functional state with all of its original parts and paint and the possessions and cargo it had carried. You may choose whether you want my technicians to online some of the systems the Elite Guard has shut down and if you wish to wake him up, just contact me or Sari when you make the decision."

A stunned silence followed, Sari and his four teammates not understanding what Prime was talking about and Ratchet ... wasn't sure what to think about the offer. Or what the techno-organic, who had followed Optimus instructions and had retracted her weaponry and helm armor, had to do with it. Or Optimus, for that matter. Well, besides the obvious of him being the leader of a state Ratchet had heard vague rumors about from some overcharged bots on Cybertron. He had thought that the enegex had gotten to them, but it would seem that the Republic they had been talking about existed in real life. Had they been here? Had they _met_ Optimus in person, too, or were they receiving special treatment because they had nearly crash-landed with _Megatron_ clinging to their ship? Drift and Hound made it sound as though Optimus talked to _everyone_ who came to this Earth planet. Optimus had practically said it, too. How had High Command never heard of this? How had the Cybertronian Republic, rumored to have a seat in the _Galactic Council_ and to have the largest net of allies and trade agreements, stayed _just_ a _rumor_? How wasn't it in the news, on intelligence reports? How come _no one_ seemed to know _anything_ about it? How was it so hush hush? How was _Optimus Prime_ not a famous or infamous name?

_'Why would he offer to bring online the instrument of Decepticon defeat, the defeat of the mightiest military force in the _universe_!?'_ That was the real question. Ratchet knew there were Decepticons here, heck _Megatron_ was also currently here. Optimus had probably just returned from speaking with him. No one had tried to hide these facts. How many Decepticons _were_ here? How many Autobots? How many were going to _stay_ here? Did Optimus have so many soldiers that he wasn't worried about a possible attack?

_"This ain't an army base, before you let your processor wander off with ya."_ Those had been Hound's exact words. But it not being an army base didn't mutually exclude _some_ sort of military presence. Or at least some form of a response team or a defense system! _Everyone_ had one! But was it really strong enough to take down a ship like the Orion?

And that's not even _mentioning_ what Drift had implied. _"You lot are lucky Big Bot plucked your ship out of the sky,"_ had been what Drift had said. He hadn't elaborated how. Optimus had something to do with it. This mech had somehow stopped a _warship_, re-purposed as it may be, from crashing on a populated area, _all by himself_.

Ratchet powered down his magnets, eying Optimus warily. The taller both just nodded gratefully before going on as though he hadn't just been somewhat threatened. Maybe that was why the techno-organic - Sari - and Hound acted so protective. Maybe he was too trusting. Ratchet didn't want to sound like a spike-sheat, but maybe he can _use_ that. He had to look out for these young bots under his care. Using a mech of a shifty background and who has been talking to Megatron just moments ago like they were old pals and who seemed to be _used_ to negative reactions was not something Ratchet will loose recharge over.

"Now, I take it you have questions? Or should we start with a formal introduction? I'd like to know the names of my new guests. To be official, my name is Optimus Prime and this is Sari Sumdac." The little techno-organic waved at them with a small grin.

Ratchet grit his dentae and stopped himself from pointing out that Optimus already somehow _knew_ their names, no doubt due to the ship logs that were on the Orion. Or maybe he only knew Ratchet due to Drift? He still complied, begrudgingly and grumbling his reply. "You already know my designation, and these are Bumblebee, Bulkhead and Prowl. We're an Autobot space bridge repair crew. We have no idea how we got here, only that we got a spike in energy readings that resembled the AllSpark enough for the Decepticon ship Nemesis to fire upon us. Megatron tried to slag us, something went boom, our ship took some damage, as you may know, and a space bridge we were hoping to use to escape suddenly sucked us in, overloaded and probably exploded, I don't know for sure, and we found ourselves here. Did your new Decepticon _guest_ tell you about that?"

Optimus reset his optics at him and Sari blinked before a snicker escaped her. "Wow! Drift wasn't _kidding_ when he said you were _grumpy_!"

"Sari!" The mech whose shoulder she was sitting on almost yelped, indignant, appalled and exasperated at how rude that sounded. Sari just giggled at the reprimand but uttered a small sorry to the medic, who was planning on how he was going to rearrange Drift's limbs as soon as he got his servos on him. _Very_ painfully.

Fragging Decepticon.

Optimus just sighed and looked back to him. "Actually, he _did_ say why he was on your ship. The explosion was caused by some device that overloaded his circuits-" Ratchet made a face at that. Overload of warframe circuitry was no small deal. They were _lucky_ they survived at all. "And it damaged both him and your ship. He's none the wiser as to how you ended up here, but I have a fairly good idea. I just wanted to check something."

"You know how we ended up here?" Bulkhead asked, scratching his helm with a servo. "Because I'd like an explanation. Space bridges don't _do_ that."

"No, but the AllSpark does!" Sari chirped cheerfully from her perch. "You're not the first ship in distress that it brought through a space bridge."

Ratchet lost it.

"The AllSpark is _here_!?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Thief**

**Summary: Ancient cities and artifacts of great power don't just disappear on their own! The number of defections rises. A group of washouts and a warlord wind up on a world unlike any they've seen before and the leader is interesting enough. Peace. Equallity. And no factions, put your weapons down, Primus damn it!**

Sari was looking at him strangely for his outburst and Prime seemed resigned. His fellow Autobots, at least, looked just as stunned. "Well, _duh_! Where else _would_ it be?"

"Lost in space because it was thrown through a random space bridge so that the Decepticons can't get their filthy servos at it! You need to get that thing away from here _now_, before Megatron finds it and uses it to conquer Cybertron!"

Neither Sari nor Optimus were impressed by Ratchet's outburst, to his great annoyance. "Megatron already knows the AllSpark is here and has given his word not to try and take it," Optimus carefully said, now eying Ratchet in an evaluating way. "Not that he knows where it is or that he can get to it. It's well hidden and even better protected. It's safe. It won't be used for war. I won't allow it. It's an artifact of life and creation, not destruction."

"Then tell that to the Deceoticons!" Bumblebee was the one to snap this time, but Optimus only shook his helm at them.

"It's safe. No one is getting their servos on it, not Decepticons, not Autobots, not Quintessons or anyone else who might want it. Now, are you interested in how you got here or do I need to keep repeating myself until it sticks? Because I have a recording from past experiences I find is equally effective as me doing it, except I'm not wasting my time or my vocalizer on it." That shut the Autobots up and they exchanged looks between them. This was their only chance to learn how they got to these remote sector and they can't squander it.

"We would appreciate it if you enlightened us," Ratchet grumbled and sat back on his medical berth. This was going to be one _long_ solar cycle.

"The AllSpark has been reaching out for bots in distress since I found it, over a thousand stellar cycles ago. Before we settled down, it used to lead me to the mechs that needed my help, which is how the Independent Cybertronian Republic started building itself. When we settled on Earth, it simply started bringing those distressed mecha who needed aid to us. Sometimes, it was a lack of energon, other times, they were under attack that will surely extinguish their sparks. There are many cases like you, where a ship was bound to crash and the AllSpark brought them here, where we can prevent it. Anything that endangers _any_ Cybertronian triggers the AllSpark's response and it brings mecha here, through our space bridge or into the atmosphere if its too big or crashing into a planet or something else. I'm going to make a wild guess you were running low on fuel - I saw the report on your reserves, you were almost running on fumes with how many empty cubes were in your bay as opposed to full ones! - that you also encountered some form of danger and that triggered the AllSpark. It sends a beacon signal to the mecha it intends to bring here, which must be the AllSpark energy signature that the Nemesis' sophisticated scanners picked up. It's usually very weak and almost unrecognizable unless another ship is close enough to read it properly. The Nemesis' attacking you only ensured that you will get bridged here. Megstron essentially carrying a bomb double ensured it and meant _he_ would be transported here as well. Your ship getting damaged in the explosion tripled it and made you a priority. The six of you were _extremely_ lucky to have survived."

"But there are four of us," Bumblebee pointed out in confusion.

"Five, if you count Megatron," Prowl corrected, although he, too, was confused by that one extra spark counted. Ratchet wasn't, so he just nodded at Prime.

"You say this happens often?" Optimus nodded. "_How_ often are we talking about?"

"Depends. Sometimes, we get a new guest every other day. Other times, we go months without a bot needing our help."

"You said you had a space bridge?" Bulkhead asked, sounding somewhat excited and Optimus answered an affirmative. "Why does it act like that? I mean, randomly transwarping people here? How can it even do that? You usually need to input coordinates. And you need a special code for it to work because it needs to be connected to the Nexus back in Iacon on Cybertron. And why didn't it bring us right through instead of in the orbit?"

"I already said that it's for safety reasons that crashing vessels usually are delivered into the orbit. As for your other questions, the AllSpark has this tendency to take it over as it pleases, even though its nowhere _near_ the bridge to create an interface, even an indirect one. And this space bridge isn't connected to the Nexus on Cybertron. It's independent." There was an amused twitch of dermas at that and Ratchet snorted at the irony. Of fragging _course_. An independent space bridge for the Independent Cybertronian Republic.

Bulkhead nodded, accepting the answer but still appearing somewhat confused. He let it go in favor of Bumblebee's excited: "We were promised a tour. When can we go on it?"

Optimus chuckled and Sari seemed to be vibrating with energy. "As soon as you promise not to attack anyone or cause problems, to either other Cybertronians or humans here."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Bumblebee was all but jumping in place and Ratchet made a resigned and exasperated face while Prowl face-palmed, a normal reaction these days. "Let's go!"

"Yeah! They've gotta see Detroit!" Sari whooped in agreement, getting excited herself all over again. "There's so much I want to show you guys! And there's so much you guys need to learn about humans, too. Oh, I need to teach you to play video games and VR games and-"

"I somehow doubt the VR simulator was meant for _games_, Sari."

"If it can support it, it was meant for it," was the little human's reply and Prime just shook his helm in a fond but resigned manner before he smiled at the Autobots. He gestured for them to follow him and they all slowly walked through the halls of a surprisingly big hospital. It was bigger than the one Ratchet had served in Iacon, that was for sure. Then again, it was accommodating both warframes and civilians, so it made sense.

"I hope you don't mind me asking," Optimus spoke up after several breems of just Sari, Bumblebee and now Bulkhead talking to each other, addressing the group as a whole though his optics strayed to Ratchet when he looked over his shoulderstrut. "But where is your squad leader? Usually someone from the Elite Guard is sent to look after a crew like yours. And some of you are awfully young. Do any of you even have any real military training?"

"Well, Bulkhead and I had some drill training in the Autobot Boot camp before we were kicked out and we're not all _that _young!"

The red and blue truck seemed intrigued and somewhat displeased about this, if Ratchet was reading his field right. "Why were you kicked out?"

"Sarge didn't like us all that much and I kinda accidentally toppled a tower in simulated combat training and then Bumblebee took the fall so we bot got kicked out." The big, green, gentle bot was the one to answer this time and Optimus turned around to look at them, startled.

"Didn't like you? Accidentally? There's no way Kup Minor would ever kick someone out because of an accident or his own personal feelings, unless he felt a bot isn't ready or isn't suited for combat. He'd usually just put them in a noncombatant group!" Ratchet was paying a great deal more attention now. So Optimus Prime was a military bot, one that had probably trained in the Academy, too, judging form how intimately he was familiar with old Kup and his way of running the drills.

"Um, who's Kup? Our drill sargent was Sentinel Minor." And Optimus went so very still all of a sudden, his face losing all emotion. That was a name Ratchet didn't recognize, but Optimus clearly did and it seemed him and this Sentinel fellow have quite a history. Not a good one, either, judging by how the red and blue mech drew in his EM field.

"How long ago was that? How long have you been away from Cybertron as space bridge technicians?"

"Um, about thousand and fifty stellar cycles ago? A few decacycles longer?" The yellow speedster ventured a guess and gave a shrug. "That sound's about right. We've been space bridge repair bots for a thousand and fifty stellar cycles for _sure_. We ran into prowl fifty stellar cycles ago, so I've been counting!"

Optimus did what appeared to be a quick calculation before he looked at them with new optics, a light in them Ratchet was hard pressed to understand. He couldn't understand what he was seeing but Prime was definitely going somewhere with this. "And your commanding officer? Who were you assigned?"

"We should have been assigned some newly promoted Prime but the guy never showed. The night before we were supposed to meet him, he disappeared in the Primal Basilica Raid and is suspected to have been a witness so the Thief had probably taken him as well," Ratchet responded this time, knowing that the young bots on his team had no idea about any of this. "He's believed to be offline. Ultra Magnus assigned us a new unit leader the next solar cycle, Topheat Major. He fled as soon as the Decepticon ship was identified, taking our only escape shuttle. I think he was blown into smithereens. No vessel that small could survive the Nemesis' artillery. Especially since it didn't even have a shielding system. Dumb young bots. He's never been much of a leader, anyway."

Optimus face was contorted into an expression that could speak a sentence but it was like trying to read and understand a whole different language. He stopped and turned so he fully faced the group, blue servos clenched in tight fists. "A thousand and fifty stellar cycles and two groons ago, my unit, consisting of Cadets Sentinel, Elita One and I, landed on a forbidden organic planet, Archa 7, on Sentinel's behest in search of a downed Decepticon ship that was rumored to be full of energon. We found it but we also found the reason why the planet was off limits for Autobots. Elita One was thought to have perished and Sentinel and I stood trial before Ultra Magnus and the Council. As the senior cadet, thus acting as a commanding officer for our unit, I took responsibility and was washed out of the Autobot Academy, a groon later. A day less than a groon later, I was called in by Ultra Magnus and offered a position as a Prime on a space bridge repair crew. Feeling unworthy after what happened to Elita One, I asked to be given a few joors to consider it and was told that a decisive answer was expected the next morning. That night, I left Cybertron a changed mech."

They gaped. Every last one of them, from Sari to Bulkhead, from Bumblebee to Prowl, they all _gapped_ at him. There was no other reaction. Ratchet hadn't thought something like _this_ could happen. "Well, I certainly wasn't expecting _that_." _This_ was the Prime that he was supposed to let run the Orion? Funny how it seemed inevitable that it would happy either way, despite Optimus running away. "Why did you never show up? My ship not _good_ enough for ya?"

Optimus frowned slightly, the only change in his expression. "I was torn. I even thought about saying yes. I wanted to _help_ people. I was given a better opportunity to do it." He gave a harsh sigh and rubbed at his nasal ridge. "I guess this was for the best."

"Oh?" Prowl arched a questioning optic ridge at that. "And how would that be?"

The Prime looked over to him, a very strange look in his optics. "Imagine if I'd been with your team. The AllSpark would have found me either way. Don't ask how, don't ask why, it _would_. Now, imagine if I'd been there when Megatron and the Decepticons detected that signal. You have the AllSpark in your hanger bay. We call Cybertron for help. I know them. They'd think we weren't really in danger. Space bridge repair crews don't get much presidence over, well, _anything_. They'd tell us to sit tight until they can deploy a small unit. Whether that unit will make it in time or not is a good question. Even if they did, that would have left us and several other Autobots at the mercy, or lack of thereof, if we're perfectly honest, of a good part of Decepticon High Command. We have the AllSpark. They'll want it. There's a good possibility Starscream would have still betrayed Megatron, but _what if he didn't_? Megatron's gets onto the ship. Let's say the same thing happens and we somehow end up here and he even burns up in the atmosphere. We'd still crash. The ship wouldn't be able to lift off. It's a question whether we'd survive at all and, if we somehow did, we'd _still_ have the AllSpark. Then what? At some point, the Decepticons would find a way to track it down. They'd come here. The five of us would have to fight who knows how many of them! Ratchet is the only one who had participated in any form of military operation. Prowl is probably the only fully trained fighter we would have-"

"Actually," the two-wheeler in question interrupted, looking sheepish and somewhat ashamed. "I never really finished my cyberninja training. The dojo was attacked and raided and Master Yoketron was offlined before I could. I found him too late to help him. I'm ... I was his last student."

Optimus reset his optics before giving Prowl a single, slow nod. The bristling of Prowl's plating stopped and Ratchet only then realized it was even there. "I'm sorry you had to go through that. I've never met him but I've only ever heard good things about him. He was a great bot." The visored mech gave a single grateful nod before arching an optic ridge at Optimus again and gesturing for him to continue his explanation. The Prime sighed again and continued from where he had left off. "Okay, so Prowl and I would be the best trained mechs on our team. Between the two of us, we'd be able to train and direct you in any fights that might ensue. We manage to keep the AllSpark safe for a while. Let's even say we have the humans' help. The question still remains of _how long_ we'd be able to go on like that. One mistake would be enough to land the AllSpark in Decepticon servos. And when they have it, what they do to us varies from how useful a space bridge repair crew can be. The Cons have been trying to figure out how to build space bridges for centuries. They'd probably have us working like slaves and then either make us build more or simply offline us. It's one or the other. Or maybe one of us would get killed during our struggles. Or maybe one of the crazier ones would get bored. Either way, we have _very little_ chance of getting out of it online and unscathed. It's for the best, this way. I at least built the Independent Cybertronian Republic and can house you here, now, as opposed to us crashing on an alien world with no allies. I am at least saving _lives_ instead of ending them. I am content." He turned around and started walking again, apparently done with the conversation.

"But how can you be sure that we'd find the AllSpark?" Bumblebee questioned, frowning in confusion as he ran after the taller bot, the other Autobots following after him. Ratchet can't help but ask the same question in his own processor. Prime made a very compelling point for everything, _except_ the probability of the finding the AllSpark. Prime had found it stellar cycles ago, probably in a different quadrant than the one they had been picked up from. The likeliness of a repeat was very low.

This time, when Optimus looked over his shoulder, Ratchet's vents hitched. Because those optics looked older than any bot had a right to be. The light in them seemed _ancient_. They spoke of loss and wisdom beyond a normal bot's understanding and they whispered of things Ratchet couldn't even imagine. And there was such certainty in them that the old medic couldn't help but shiver.

"Because I wasn't the one to find _it_. The _AllSpark _found _me_."


	9. Chapter 9

**Thief**

**Summary: Ancient cities and artifacts of great power don't just disappear on their own! The number of defections rises. A group of washouts and a warlord wind up on a world unlike any they've seen before and the leader is interesting enough. Peace. Equallity. And no factions, put your weapons down, Primus damn it!**

It's been several orbital rotations - days - since they ended up on Earth and Prowl was absolutely taken with the organic planet and it's many different lifeforms. Everything was so full of life, nothing was still. If you sat in one place and stared long enough, you could see the plants grow. And whereas the humans had been rather curious about the new arrivals, they were far too used to new bots joining the robotic half of their city to care too much. Already they were leaving the newly arrived Autobots alone to their own devices.

Well, except Sari. She had taken a great liking to them and tended to show them around or demonstrate various parts of human culture and explain some of the stranger things that humans tended to do. She even helped them pick out new alt modes so they can better blend in. That was especially when everyone stopped staring at them and accepted them as their guests. The little girl advised them to download languages from the Internet so they can understand humans, since Sari knew Cybertronian and the galactic standard only because Optimus and 'the others' bothered to teach her. Outside of Hound and Drift, they haven't met any of those others yet.

And they hadn't had a chance to see much of Optimus, either. They'd catch a glimpse of him here or there, as he was walking or driving off to do this or that. He always seemed to be aware of eyes and optics on him and would nod in their direction if he didn't have the time to stop and chat. He had stopped by only to inform Ratchet that most of the damage had been repaired and that the Orion was receiving an oil change, two days ago. Other than that, he could be seen in the company of various mechs they haven't been introduced to yet or alone, doing administrative things regarding anything and everything and everyone on the planet. He worked hard, that much was obvious, but his efforts were well worth it, for Metroplex was a city like no other.

The best representation of this was the Youth Center. It was one of the most prominent features of the city and was filled with sparklings and youngling and even a few mechlings and femmelings. Prowl had never seen anyone younger than a mechling before and Bumblebee and Bulkhead, who were even younger than him and had never traveled before they were put on this team, hadn't seen even that. And yet there was a whole giant building nearly full of them, of various sizes and colorations, blue and red optics in pretty much even numbers. Optimus had taken them to the Center after their afternoon stasis nap, when they were still sleepy and only now waking up so that they don't overwhelm them, and Ratchet had frozen up like he was experiencing a glitch when he saw them all. It still seemed impossible to them all, especially given that there were seekers and other types of flightframes circling - guarding - the building. Prowl hadn't been sure what to think.

Ratchet, though, was floored for a whole different reason. The teacher and one of the caretakers in the Center was a nice, pretty femme with an interesting accent Prowl couldn't quite place. She was a standard, if a bit older model, she was pink and had blue optic but no Autobot badge. None of the younger Autobots knew her, but Ratchet certainly did. "Arcee?!" Had been his shocked and confused and very much delighted cry. The femme had looked up and smiled and the old medic and went over and tugged her into a big hug. Apparently, they knew each other from the Great War. Ratchet had been sent on a mission to retrieve her from behind the Decepticon line, had treated her injured led, tried to keep her away from a bounty hunter, had to delete her memory drives so Lockdown couldn't get some important access codes from her processor for Megatron and, in the end, managed to bring her, amnesic, back to the Autobots.

Apparently, Optimus had accidentally found her in the Iacon hospital and had taken her with him the first night. And, somewhere along the way, whether it be by the AllSpark's power or something else, Optimus had somehow managed to restore her memories and she had decided to return to her job as a teaching unit when they started getting young Cybertronians with them. She was happy and could say only the best about Prime. The fact that the sparklings all rushed to him with gleeful chirps and whirs and whistles supported that particular fact. And the way he was with them ...

Well, Ratchet was at least a little less grumpy around the red, blue and silver mech after that. He still watched him suspiciously at times, but he wasn't going to snap at the neutral any more than was necessary. At least Optimus seemed used to grumpy medics with a temper.

The Autobots settled. Sari thought they might not be comfortable where every other guest was usually staying, what with Megatron and dozens of other Decepticons, former or not, staying there as well, so she took them to an old plant and had the Constructicons, Mixmaster and Scrapper, help them move in some furniture and the such. They made themselves a comfy temporary base and they went about their own business, studying humans and seeing whether they can learn anything about Metroplex and its leader. Mecha were more than happy to talk about Optimus, but even the most begrudging Autobots had only good things to say, suspicious as they might be. The humans were an intriguing species with the most curious of customs that Prowl had ever seen and their planet's nature was absolutely _gorgeous_. Bumblebee preferred their fast and loud preferences, gaming and movies and Bulkhead liked their art. Sari had even provided him with Cybertronian-sized art supplies and booked him an art show. Both humans and Cybertronians came to see, as, despite them being here for seventy years, none of them had thought to try it out. Optimus had been there, surrounded by Drift, Hound, Arcee, three other mechs and two other femmes. He talked to anyone and everyone who wanted to have a word with him and complimented Bulkhead on his work. He had asked some questions, comparing old Cybertronian styles with the human ones and asking what Bulkhead's inspiration had been.

Megatron had also turned up, a great shock, but no one paid much mind to the Decepticon leader unless they wanted to talk to him. The new guests and most of the other Autobots who still had their badges were tense and ready to spring in action should he try anything, but the warlord had simply scanned Bulkhead's work, seemed not to understand it and gravitated towards Optimus and his group, where they started up a conversation. A hulking lime green Decepticon joined them at some point and Prowl was sure that was the Decepticon medic, Hook, that Ratchet either cursed or praised. Megatron's presence created a tenser atmosphere but there was no incident.

Critics had mostly positive reactions to Bulkhead's work and people were already asking when a second art show will be held. At least Bulkhead was happy.

Ratchet had taken to observing human medicine from time to time, if he wasn't working in the ward in the hospital or catching up with Arcee. Or avoiding Drift. Prowl wasn't sure what their story was, but they sure did have one. Arcee, Hound, Optimus and their circle found it amusing. Ratchet looked between annoyed and embarrassed. From what he had seen of his fellow cyberninja, he was enjoying himself. Prowl wondered whether he should approach the former Decepticon and ask him for a sparring from time to time. Deadlock had been one of Master Yoketron's greatest students. If anyone can help him finish his cyberninja training, it should be him.

But Prowl was reluctant to stop his observation or meditation in nature. He was sure Ratchet was still eager to leave the planet, still not really trusting the peace that ruled here. The fact that they had seemingly limitless amounts of energon but no bot other than those still bearing faction marks were to be seen drinking it didn't sit well with the medic. All they ever saw them drinking was oil or energex or high grade or even _vosk_. And maybe medical grade energon in the hospital, but there were so few injured here at this time that needed to stay in the hospital or drink that tasteless thing. And Ratchet was still more than impatient to see the Orion in the air again. It is very likely that they'll leave as soon as the ship was space worthy. Which meant Prowl had limited time to either continue his training or learn something new and enjoy the silence that has been denied to him since he joined the repair crew out of necessity. So he spent most of his time on Dinobot Island, in a part he had specifically asked whether the Dinobots themselves visited less often. He didn't want to cross their paths. They were rather territorial.

"I wish I could say I am surprised to see you here," a familiar voice broke through his concentration and Prowl turned around to see none other than a smiling Optimus Prime slowly approaching him from the woods. The startling thing was the obviously warframe sparkling clinging to his servo possessively as it gave Prowl a suspicious scowl with two glowing red optics. The little mech was one of the sparklings that were sparked here with the few protoforms that the neutrals had. He had taken a surprising liking to Optimus and often declared him 'his'. If Prowl remembered correctly, the little one had named himself Galvatron. Warframes named themselves instead of waiting for a superior officer to give them a designation, as was traditional with the Autobots. Prowl had always wondered at the oddity of Decepticon names. "But Drift and Arcee tended to come here a lot the first few months. Though, that was quite a few years before the Dinobots were sparked. Now, Arcee tends to stay with the sparklings and Drift and Grimlock get into arguments too often for him to meditate here. Grimlock knew he was annoying him and always purposefully sought him out to annoy him further. Drift now meditates near the Old Mines instead of here."

"I think I've managed to disinterest the Dinobot enough so that they don't bother me," the black and gold motorcycle replied dryly, optics focused on the scowling sparkling for a few kliks before turning back to the mech. "Might I ask what you are doing here? I thought no one came to this part of the island." He hesitated for a moment before nodding to the grass beside him. "Though you can join me, if you like."

"Thanks," Optimus replied and sat down at a respectable distance, crossing his legs and placing Galvatron in his lap. The sparkling settled, content, and started playing with Optimus' digits. The Prime let him, stroking his helm or back with his free servo as they conversed. "I kind of take Galvatron out here to help him get rid of the additional energy he gets. Usually, a warframe would help another warframe deal with it, but Galvatron seems to have chosen _me_ to be his designated caretaker. It happened with two others, but one was the creation of the AllSpark from an Earth vehicle while the other was a mature protoform. You probably saw them with me already, the two white and blue muscle cars. Only Smokescreen has some red about his helm and Strongarm has a bit of yellow around her waist and arms. They help with administrative work, especially Strongarm. She's practically a walking, talking rule book with a spark. She knows every legal regulation from the Galactic Council, from its individual members and every one of our allies, as well as all human, Autobot and Decepticon laws. She was essential in creating some of our current Republic laws and I'm not sure what I'd do without her. I'm her mentor and she's my assistant. Smokescreen, though much less mature than Strongarm, is good at subduing and unruly warframes and racers. He's pretty fast and has a way of getting the more aggressive warframes to calm down before a fight can break out. It's been invaluable with Decepticon new arrivals. I got used to working with them and all sparklings want attention from everyone, but Galvatron was the first warframe to fixate on me." The bigger mech shrugged and smiled down at his charge. "I need a lot of consulting on his development, but it's worth it."

Prowl could bet. Galvatron was practically energon-jelly in Optimus lap and falling into recharge little by little, hugging his hand and helm resting on a silver thigh. "I take it a lot of things were worth giving up your own command."

Optimus barely hid a wince, but Prowl had been studying him closely since he'd sat down. That was odd, too, how much guilt Optimus felt at having 'left them behind'. He had made sure they had all that they needed in their accommodations and assured them that they were as welcome as everyone else and that their ship will be up and running as quickly as it was possible. Sure, it was the normal procedure around here, as was providing them with fuel for their trip - Prowl had to wonder just _where_ they got all that energon from that they can spread it around like that, but the Independent Cybertronian Republic was shrouded in mystery and had _many_ secrets. The only thing _anyone_ knew about it was that it had many, _many_ allies - but Optimus seemed kind of awkward around them, like he didn't know what to do with them or how to act around them. Prowl's own opinion of Optimus was that he was a good mech, nice and kind to a fault, ready to accept anyone as long as they didn't endanger anyone else. He felt it was somehow _his_ fault that Prowl and his team had faced the Decepticons without any proper training and that it was because of him that they got stuck with an incompetent leader. Prowl couldn't begin to understand where that line of thought came from, when Optimus had made it perfectly clear that he thought it was for the best that they hadn't started off on a journey together. Given how marvelous Metroplex was, Prowl would agree.

It was as though Optimus thought he could save everyone. That was just optimistic and naive. As a leader, Optimus shouldn't be thinking foolish things like that. It could endanger his people.

And yet Prowl knew it had to be that way of thinking, that kindness, that drew so many mecha to stay. Prowl was a lone wolf. He did best when he was alone. He loved peace and quiet. He hadn't always been a cyberninja. He hadn't always known how to fight nor was he as patient with the world at large. He hadn't wanted to be involved with the war raging between Autobots and Decepticons any more than he wanted to be a part of it now. Despite the number of people here, this would be the ideal place for him. He can interact with as many or as little mechs as he wants, he can have a place to have some peace and quiet to relax and meditate and he wouldn't have to fight. He could get any job he wanted, if he wanted to, or he can do other things.

He can see why Ratchet was loath to trust this place. It was like utopia. Like paradise. It was utterly impossible.

"I guess there are. I'm sorry I left you guys high and dry, but I'm not sorry that I left. Our race is slowly _dying_, Prowl. We need a safe haven. I know I can't save everyone, but I want to save as many lives as I can." Well, there goes _that _theory. Optimus _was _realistic. He just wanted to hope for the best. He wanted to believe that there was a chance. That, at least, was admirable. "I hate this war. I want nothing to do with it. Do you know I used to dream of being a hero?"

"Don't we all?" The black one said, trying to lighten up the situation. Galvatron was deep in recharge by now and Optimus voice had gone quiet, barely above a whisper. Prowl was suddenly hit with the realization that Optimus was probably younger than him. With how the truck carried himself, one would think he was ancient. But now, here, away from prying optics save for a sleeping sparkling and a natural loner, Prime was willing to reveal that part of himself that acted his age. He was letting someone else in.

Prowl wasn't sure what he was supposed to do with that.

"While I was in the Academy, I thought that meant fighting Decepticons."

"Well, doesn't it?"

"Does keeping someone out of their home, denying them their food and access to the AllSpark and Vector Sigma?" The motorcycle kept quiet. He had a feeling this was only the beginning. "The Decepticons are far from guiltless, but tell me," and there it goes again. Optimus' optics looked pained and sad and older than anything Prowl had ever see before in his young function. "Is it right to deny them their rights as sentient beings? To treat them as tools that can be discarded or melted down when they're no longer suitable for their intended function? Because that's what some of your precious Autobots did, Prowl, before they picked up that name and started painting themselves as noble, virtuous heroes fighting monsters. The Decepticons are monsters only as much as we make them. I'm sure you've seen what I mean during your short time here."

He had. None of the factionless warframes or the still loyal Decepticons here had acted anything like Autobots painted them out to be. Some of them were more decent and downright gentler than some Autobots Prowl knew. He had attributed it to this place, but what if what Optimus said was true?

"Megatron didn't exactly hesitate to fire upon our ship, though," he remembered and pointed out, only Optimus snorted in response.

"His people are dying, possibly at a faster rate than Autobots are now that you don't have the AllSpark. He thought you had it on your ship. It's the only chance his people have of returning home and of surviving."

"I know of Decepticons who don't have such reasoning to demolish Autobot troops."

"And I know of Autobot operations that make anything some Decepticons can do look like popping a baby's balloon." The red and blue firetruck shook his head. "Neither side is innocent in this, Prowl. I'm just saying that the Autobots started it and that the Decepticons are intent on ending it."

"That means a massive execution of all things Autobot!" The ninja protested and the bigger mech just looked on ahead, as though uncaring.

"And an Autobot victory means the extinction of Decepticons. And as both sides are trying to appear to be taking the moral high ground, both species will die in this war." That, if anything, shocked Prowl beyond anything he could say. At this point, Prime looked back at him, optics solemn. "Which is why I welcome both. You can go and fight your war all you want. I will give sanctuary to everyone who wants it. Fight and kill all you like. The Cybertronian race will live on here."

"That ... Is an unexpectedly cold outlook." He looked down at the sleeping sparkling and his spark felt tight. There were no more young Cybertronains on either Cybertron or on any colony world and he doubted the Decepticons were off any better. Only here. This place here is the _future _of Cybertron, of their _entire _race, Autobots _and_ Decepticons. Or rather, grounders and fliers, civilians and warframes.

"It's the only one I can keep that won't drive me insane," was the last thing Optimus said and they fell into silence, Prowl contemplating their conversation and reevaluating his opinion of Optimus while said bot kept petting the sparkling that was practically his. Prowl had thought from the first day they met Optimus that the mech had a strong personal reason why he kept Metroplex the way he did. He had thought that Ratchet was right and that this was some elaborate form of tyranny that they couldn't quite yet discover or understand.

But this, what it _actually _was ...

This was _survival_.

It wasn't about power, Optimus had already more than enough of it. It wasn't about manipulation or conquering or anything like that. Optimus had seen the problem and the only way he could prevent it was creating a place for mechs like him, who didn't want to have a hand in slowly killing their race. He was trying to _save _them all and he was, better than anyone before him, _succeeding_. Whatever doubts Ratchet had were unfounded. Metroplex was exactly as it seemed and it was like that for a _reason_. Optimus Prime was just the type of mech who could inspire loyalty and devotion and who seemed to understand _peace_.

"I think I rather like it here," he commented offhandedly but Optimus smiled and Prowl knew he understood he wasn't talking about just this little part of the forest that was mostly quiet. Well, Prowl had never wanted to be an Autobot, either. He hadn't wanted to go out and fight a war that didn't really concern him, either. It only made sense that he stayed here. He had no obligation to Ratchet, Bulkhead and Bumblebee if they decided to leave. Their deal had been that they drop him off after destroying his shuttle, anyway.

"I do, too. It almost feels like home." They fell into silence again, just listening to the wind playing with the leaves and enjoying each other's company and the understanding they had reached. Galvatron slumbered without a care in the world and Optimus seemed to finally be relaxing-

His comm pinged and the Prime gave a groan, reaching up to activate it. "What did you do _now_, Sari?"

"_It wasn't me!_" The girl's voice was audible even over the sound of what appeared to be battle. "_The Key just started acting up and dragged me around until it sparked a new mech! Oh no! It's happening _again_!_"

"Hang on, Sari!"

"That was Bumblebee," said Prowl urgently and Optimus was already standing up, Galvatron reseting his optics up at them blearily, still fuzzy with sleep.

"Where are you, Sari? I'll be there in a minute, just hold on!"

"_Dino Drive! Please hurry!_"

Prime smacked his forehelm. "Not _this _again!" And then he ran off, sparkling still in servos.

Prowl had no idea what was going on, but he ran after him.

He ought to get used to this.

This was his new home.


	10. Chapter 10

**Thief**

**Summary: Ancient cities and artifacts of great power don't just disappear on their own! The number of defections rises. A group of washouts and a warlord wind up on a world unlike any they've seen before and the leader is interesting enough. Peace. Equallity. And no factions, put your weapons down, Primus damn it!**

"I take it things like this happen often?" Optimus looked up from his datapad at the deep, rumbling voice of the Decepticon leader and just sighs tiredly, sending him a mildly annoyed look. Megatron just smirks at his host as he walks into the medbay housing the two new Dinobot additions.

"I think you jinxed us the other day, asking for more Dinobots," the Prime grumbled and Megatron just chuckled. "At least Slag and Sludge, as they're calling themselves, are perfectly fine and will probably take well to Dinobot Island. How Grimlock will take it that there is a beastformer bigger than him is not something I want to think about right now. We'll need to watch out for those two for now. At least until things settle." He deactivated the datapad and put it in his subspace, turning his full attention to Megatron. Or so he had thought. The Decepticon warlord couldn't help but stare at the pretty much obvious warbuild sparkling that the smaller mech held with his free hand on his hip, the little one pretty much dozing against Optimus' shoulder. He had seen this one before, with that group of sparklings that had ran to them that first day. "Someone will have to be present if Sludge tries to challenge Grimlock for his position as Dinobot leader to make sure they don't offline each other. I'm thinking Ariel should be enough, though a medic wouldn't hurt, either." He then must have noticed the way the Decepticon was staring at the sparkling on his hip because he gave a small 'Oh,' and gestured at the little one. "Megatron, this is Galvatron. Galvatron, now's not the time for your afternoon nap. Say hi to Megatron."

Galvatron opened sleepy red optics and gave the older warframe an unimpressed look and wound his servos around Optimus' neckcables, making a face that was a statement on its own: "Mine." The red and blue mech gave an exasperated sigh but there was no way to deny the fondness on his face. Megatron just arched an optic ridge at them both, giving the little one a wave while questioningly glancing at Optimus.

"He designated me as his caretaker," was all Optimus said and that pretty much explained everything. He better adjusted Galvatron in his servos and gestured for Megatron to follow him out of the ward. "So now I have three charges to take care of as well as a city and a whole Galactic Council recognized state. As you can see, I am a very busy mech. How I find the time for slag like that," he tipped his head back towards the new additions to his community with wry humor. "Usually surprises more than just new arrivals."

"I didn't know you had any charges," Megatron commented, deciding not to talk about leadership difficulties. If he started complaining about some of the slag his own glitches of soldiers and High Command get up to, he was sure he'd finish by the time Galvatron was ready for his final upgrades.

"Mmhm. Smokescreen and Strongarm. Strongarm was a mature protoform sparked by the AllSpark and Smokescreen was animated by the AllSpark Key. They look like adult civilians frames, but Strongarm is only eight hundred stellar cycles old while Smokescreen is fifty nine." He looked down at the once again dozing sparkling in his arms and chuckled. "And this little mech is two stellar cycles old, a sparked protoform as well, just not a mature one. I think his was directly from Vector Sigma. He's developing rather fast. He should be ready for flight lessons soon enough. Hook says to give him a little more time to better develop his thrusters and for his transformation seams to mature a bit more. We think he might be a military spacecraft."

"Yes, he does seem to resemble my own Cybertronian alt mode, which I miss terribly, by the way. This Earth form is far too blocky for my taste," he said with a curl of his lip plates. He was a 'helicopter', a rather noisy flying vessel that the humans had created, but it was the only one that can hover in place on this planet when in flight and Megatron wasn't about to give that up for a flashier alt mode. It's a strategic disadvantage not to be able to bring yourself to a stop without having to transform into root mode every time in order to remain in the air and not create a crater in the planet bellow. If he has to look blockier to keep that advantage, then it's a good thing Megatron had never been wain enough to worry himself about _aesthetics_. That's such an Autobot nonsense and completely impractical.

"Well, too bad. There aren't a lot of bots that have your type of alt mode, especially with that cannon of yours, so you need to blend in. You never know when someone unpleasant might end up here and if they find out you're here, that would be breaking your word because it would be more trouble than its worth." Damn him, but Optimus was right. And judging by the faint smugness in his field, the neutral knew it. Megatron couldn't help his scowl. Optimus smirked. "Besides, I think it suits you."

"Oh, _really_ now?" He drawled and was surprised when the other looked away. He was about to question it when he saw they were passing an open medbay and in there he saw an Autobot medic - he could clearly see the badge on his chest - loudly berating a black and gold two-wheeler with a visor. Also an Autobot, judging from the badge. There were two others in the room with them, a yellow speedster complaining about missing all the action and the big green one that had taken to human art, along with young Sari. These must be the Autobots he had attacked for the AllSpark energy signature. Hook had given him an explanation after Optimus finished his tour at his new, temporary quarters and left to deal with the Autobots, the Decepticon medic coming at the end of his shift so they can catch up. It was both a surprise and not at all to learn that Metroplex had its own independent space bridge. How it worked in such a unique way was something Hook didn't know to explain and it slightly annoyed him. Megatron didn't know whether he himself should be frustrated that a young state like the Republic could build a functioning space bridge or bemused as to how they had done it. Cybertron doesn't exactly let their space bridge technicians go where they might be captured or offlined. Their training takes too long for them to be discarded so easily.

As they passed the open door, the black one looked up and nodded to Optimus, who returned it, never breaking stride but that exchange definitely broke the medic's rant, though it started up soon enough and it was only louder. The yellow one made some sort of comment and a tool was thrown at his helm. Everything fell still when Megatron passed their room and they _realized_ it. Things stayed quiet until he and Optimus reached an elevator and the medic started scolding the two'wheeler again.

"And you're going to stay in a place that let's _Megatron_ walk freely around!? He killed _thousands_, Prowl! Maybe millions!"

"It was war. I never wanted to be a part of that war."

"So that excuses it!?"

"Never. I am just not content to continue this longstanding tradition of spilled energon. It has to end _somewhere_, Ratchet." The elevator doors opened and Optimus stepped in, giving Megatron an inquiring look. He followed, still listening in on the conversation.

"And, what? It end's _here_?"

"Exactly." The elevator doors closed.

How intriguing. One of the Autobots had already decided to stay. He honestly hadn't expected it to happen so fast. The bets made about his own decision suggested he'll either leave within the month, the ordinary time it took mechs to make a decision, that he'll leave in two, immediately or not at all. So far, he still wasn't sure what he'll choose. He was honestly tempted to stay. Metroplex was what he had wanted for his people but the Decepticons weren't ready for something like this, not when Cybertron was still very much an option. The people here have accepted their fate. Megatron had not and he was far from ready to. Cybertron was home. He'll fight for it until his spark flickers out.

"Where are we going?" He asked when they stepped out of the hospital a few moments later, still trailing after Optimus and the sleeping sparkling. It wasn't a strange sight at all to the citizens of Metroplex. They were used to seeing Optimus with Galvatron or tending to whatever new guests were staying with them. The mech in question smiled, nodded or waved to the best of his ability around Galvatron in his arms at the passing bots when they all stopped or slowed down to greet him. Megatron was surprised when several former Autobots were civil enough to extend a greeting to him as well. What was possibly the most surprising was when four bots fell in step with them, two femmes and two mechs, servos full of datapads. One of the femmes was a teal and purple seeker with red optics and a helm shape very similar to Starscream's, not so unusual amongst seekers. They all had very similar frames, almost identical, which is why no two seekers were ever identical color-wise. She was reaching out for Galvatron, who was too deep in recharge to notice being shuffled about, her free servo holding what looked like several reports, most of which were regarding the weather and flight conditions and things like that. The other femme was already rattling off a report, interjecting it with recited regulations and various laws, a white blue and yellow civilianframe. The smaller mech was also a civilian, rather similar in coloration with the civilian femme except he had red instead of yellow, and was holding up a datapad and a stylus for Optimus to sign, several others balanced on his free servo, door wings fluttering almost like a seeker's. Those were rather rare.

But the most surprising was the larger mech, older too. He was as large but bulkier than Megatron Black and light blue in color with red optics and some rather impressive mustache-like facial designs and the Decepticon brand on his chest was unmistakable. And yet, in his large, deadly, clawed servos that had ripped out thousands of sparks lay several fragile, colorful, different energon crystals and other such crystals that Megatron had only heard of being cultivated in the gardens of Iacon and, of course, Praxus and the Crystal City, where they are local and native to. How _Agent 113_, Dominus Ambus, of the _Decepticon Justice Division_ got into _cultivating crystals_ of all things was something Megatorn will never be ale to wrap his processor about. Well, he had been a scientist, explorer, philosopher and who knows _what _else before the war started, so maybe this was normal. Dominus had joined the Decepticon cause because, despite being born in a rich, influential energon line of the might House of Ambus, his beast alt mode of a giant turbofox landed him into the lower casts and he had many problems. He was one of the very few, very rare nobles that had joined the warframes in their rebellion. Agent 113 was a loyal soldier, which is why he was stationed on the Peaceful Tyranny under Tarn. He had disappeared around a thousand stellar cycles ago in a solar storm while the DJD was chasing after what was rumored to be Trepan.

How he got here was something Megatron would very much like to know.

Agent 113 saw him staring and threw him a smirk before turning his attention back to the red, blue and silver mech that always seemed to be the center of attention. The warlord looked back as well and found that Optimus was observing him with an unreadable blue optic. When he realized he had the gray Decepticon's attention, Optimus answered his earlier question.

"Well, I thought I was going to the youth center but it would seem that I am headed for the administrative one instead. You can go wherever you want. I think there's an interesting Cybertronian-human play tonight, so you could ask Sari to get you tickets. I heard it's pretty good."

"I wish to speak with Agen- with Dominus Ambus, if you don't mind." The civilians all gave him a suspicious if knowing look and the seeker femme glared at him, but they all took the crystals and datapads from the former DJD member when he nodded and continued on their journey to the administration center in their HQ, the two femmes shooting the two warframes a few lingering glances over their shpulderstruts. Dominus apparently found it far too amusing, as he chuckled at their behavoir. Megatron wasn't as amused. "Why is it that I'm finding some of my greatest military assets all living here when I had thought them _offline_ for various number of stellar cycles?"

Dominus Ambus just shrugged. Loyal as he might be, he wasn't as big of a fanatic as Tarn was and he wasn't as violent and sadistic as Overlord or his replacement, Vos, but he had still always shown Megatron great respect, even if he was casual about it. He was a noble born mech. He left that system behind. Why should he care about showing more respect than absolutely necessary when Tarn wasn't around to breathe down his neckcables? "You've been around long enough to have spoken with Hook, Lord Megatron. He must have told you _something_ about how mechs end up in this place. And I've seen the way you look at the Prime. I don't blame you for being frustrated more and more of your army is trickling their way into Metroplex, but where else _would_ they go? We have fought for freedom and our rights. Instead, what we got is exile and slow, painful extinction. Have our service and our sparks not been enough? Have we not _earned_ peace? Well, this is the only place we will get it."

"I don't disagree with any of that. I've seen it with my own optics." Even though there seemed to be even _more_ to this place than he had first thought. A youth center, the mines - he'd found them on his own and did his own little surprise inspection to make sure there was no deceit, not that he was expecting one, but you can never be _too_ sure - a space bridge, obviously some sort of energon fields and crystal gardens ... Optimus Prime had not bothered to show him those things. Not yet. "This place is a jewel to be treasured. I won't deny any of my soldiers to have peace, to have access to all of this." Agent 113 gave him a long, thoughtful look before nodding once, apparently finding what he had been looking for and was satisfied with it.

"You always _were_ a fighter for something like this," the other said and Megatron snorted. He'd started a revolution that had turned into a war in an attempt to create this back on their home planet, but it had proven useless. As long as there was even a _hint_ of functionist regime or the caste system, warframes will never be viewed as anything more than animated tools for the Council to use and discard as they please. Cybertron was rotten to the core but the Independent Cybertronian Republic was run by a new generation. There was new energon here, new bots that don't know anything about the horrors of the old regimes. They had a chance to create a system that will benefit them all. They already _have_ created it and were living by it. Megatron wanted to rule Cybertron with an iron fist after he overthrows their oppressors. Optimus Prime didn't need to. That's not the type of government or rule that Metroplex or its inhabitants needed. They were just fine. In fact, they were _more_ than fine. "Since when are you into crystal gardening?"

Dominus Ambus, Agent 113 of the Decepticon Justice Division, a monster in his own right, laughed like Megatron had never heard him laugh before at his incredulous tone. It sounded like a cross between the yipping of a turbofox and real laughter and it had the Lord of Decepticons staring at him with incredulity but the people of Metroplex were so used to all sorts of laughter that they didn't an optic lid at them. The gray mech could only shake his head in bemusement as he let the other calm down. Honestly, he was more confused than when he had first onlined millions of stellar cycles ago. This was just plain weird.

"Ah, I have to do _something_ in my free time, when I'm not acting as the Head of Security around here. Especially since we have so very _little_ to do. Our enforcers mostly help the humans deal with their _own_ criminals and terrorists. Soundwave, the Head of Intelligence, and I are usually bored out of our minds, but Soundwave his his optics on a former Autobot that's our Communications Officer, Blaster, and is trying to court him. Poor slagger has no idea what he's doing. He's only ten stellar cycles old." Megatron remembers Optimus mentioning Soundwave. He was one of the bots sparked by the AllSpark Key, if he remembered correctly. Ten stellar cycles was pretty much a sparkling still, in Cybertronian development stages, and yet he was Head of Intelligence? He must be quite something. "One of Optimus' protégés, only not as tightly knit with him as Strongarm and Smokescreen are, though that might be because he's still pretty young. Anyway, Blaster and their combined cassettes keep him busy enough in his free time. I, on the other hand, get bored easily and no one wants to listen to me talk about the old days so I started cultivating energon and other crystals. They like being talked to and I seem to have a knack for them. Earth plants, too, but we can't keep them in the same place. Energon doesn't mix well with organics."

"Then where do you keep them?"

Dominus gave him a long, calculating look before shaking his helm. "The gardens aren't off limits to new arrivals and temporary guests, but you usually need to get the green light from Optimus to get in. Their ecosystem is still fragile, since we used to move around a lot, and we need to create a special atmosphere for them under a glass dome. Visits are usually scheduled in groups up to twenty people, so you have to see about it with him. I know there's one scheduled for next week, if you're still interested. The energon fields, though, _are_ off limits to guests and new arrivals. We had to learn that lesson the hard way when some Autobot unit tried to raid the fields and nearly blew Metroplex up. Neither Optimus nor I are looking for a repeat. Hook nearly had our helms."

"What happened to the Autobot unit?" He decided against asking or thinking too hard about the 'moving around a lot' bit because it made _no_ sense. There was no way they could have cultivated _energon_ or any _other_ type of crystals aboard some ship. No ship was _big_ enough to create the appropriate environment! At least where energon crystals were concerned. Megatron just might leave Earth with a fried processor if things continue being this strange.

Dominus had the same cold light in his optics that he used to have when traveling and working with the Phase Sixers. "They died. Perished in the explosion. Hound and Ambulon tried their best to save them, but not even the AllSpark could. Or maybe it didn't want to? Can't say. Optimus looked guilty as Pit, though I don't understand why. Wasn't _his_ fault the Autobots are fragged up glitches for trying to violently, forcefully raid an _energon field_ with still unstable crystals. Still, I think it's a good regulation to keep those who don't plan on staying _out_ of places that might end up being a security hazard. Everyone in High Command agrees."

"I thought this _wasn't_ a military base or operation of any sort?" Megatron asked with an arched optic ridge and Dominus shrugged, a strange motion with his considerable spikes from his alt mode.

"It isn't. But we're all from armies that are similarly organized and it's all some of us know. We don't need a senate or politicians, but we need _some_ structure and administration. We settled for what was the most familiar to us all."

"You have ambassadors and politicians." Optimus had said as much.

"In name only. They don't have any sort of power or the ability to _gain_ power. They represent the Republic and fight for our interests or make deals and treaties and alliances. They're not immune to the law, unlike the politicians of _our_ time. Optimus is a history bot. He read _all_ about our struggles that he could get his servos on." A teasing glint entered Ambus' red optics and Megatron narrowed his own in suspicion. He'd seen that look on Ariel and on Hook. He used to see it at times in Strika's optics, too, when they still traveled together. It never bode well for him. "In _fact_, he's a bit of a _fan_ of yours, one could say. Read most of your speeches, learned as much as he could about your biography. Tried to get his servos on an unedited _Towards Peace_ copy and found one the night he left Cybertron in the Hall of Records. Never got a chance to read it, though. I understand he's still looking for it," he said with a pointed look at the shocked warlord. He laughed and nodded a farewell at his once leader. "It was nice chatting with you, my Lord, but I must speak with Prime about some of the new security measures Captain Fanzone suggested and about the progress of my crystals. Have a good day."

And he was gone, leaving Megatron to stand in the streets on his own, staring after him and beyond that, the HQ where Optimus no doubt was. This was ... _highly_ unexpected, like most things about Earth and Metroplex and the Independent Cybertronian Republic in general. He'll have to get used to that. He wasn't sure he was ready to leave just yet. His mechs needed him, but he'd been away longer than this and Strika was more than competent enough to keep things running smoothly while her Lord was elsewhere. So long as Starscream doesn't broadcast news of his 'death' galaxy-wide, the Decepticon Cause won't suffer. Maybe he should ask for a chance to contact his ever loyal General of Destruction before that might become a problem? He'll speak with Optimus about it. Later.

For now ...

Megatron looked towards the building he now _knew_ to be the Archives of Metroplex, looking _very_ similar to the Hall of Records in Iacon but not quite the same. It was a bit smaller, if he remembered the Grand Archives well enough. It was certainly accessible to all and more than operational, which was what Megatron needed. He had some old files he'd like to check.

He needed a datapad.


	11. Chapter 11

**Thief**

**Summary: Ancient cities and artifacts of great power don't just disappear on their own! The number of defections rises. A group of washouts and a warlord wind up on a world unlike any they've seen before and the leader is interesting enough. Peace. Equallity. And no factions, put your weapons down, Primus damn it!**

Optimus sighed and leaned back into his chair in his office at the HQ. It had been a tiring few days since the new Dinobots were sparked and he had to go deal with it with Galvatron on his hip and Prowl as his backup. He still felt responsible for Prowl's injury but he was glad to have had the other there that day. Fourteen human lives had been spared due to Prowl's injury when he had jumped in front of the stomping Slag to get them out of the way. Slag's tail had hit him square in the chassis but it wasn't too deep of a wound. Nothing had been punctured or crushed beyond a competent medic's skill to fix, though Optimus didn't envy Prowl with Ratchet as his primary physician in the _least_. He should have probably asked for Hound. The big green field medic may not have as much experience or as much of a reputation as Ratchet does, but he was a good enough medic and wasn't _nearly_ as grumpy. Or maybe Ambulon. Ambulon was a former Autobot who had defected from the Decepticons, so he's pretty understanding and has a mild temperament. Still, it was Prowl's choice and judging from the conversation he and Megatron overheard in passing, Prowl had used it to inform his team of his decision. How they reacted wasn't Optimus business, so he had left them to it.

What _was_ Prime's business were the Dinobots in general. Swoop and Snarl were smaller than Grimlock and accepted his leadership and all three bots had a crush the size of Luna 1 on Elita. She could keep them in line pretty well and they had pretty much established a form of hierarchy between them in their simpler processors and ways of life. Dinobots couldn't give a slag about power struggles or political play, even if there were ones in the Republic, and humans didn't interest them, either. A good thing they were just territorial and not downright aggressive and that they couldn't care less for the humans' petty conflicts that always threatened to break out had the threat of the Cybertronian Republic packing up all that was theirs by rights of law and leaving them to their own devices not been there to loom over them. It was kins of like blackmail and manipulation, but Optimus wasn't exactly above a little dirty play to keep his people safe.

Slag and Sludge were newly sparked and were still learning about the world and what it meant to be a Cybertronian, but they had the same mindset as Grimlock, Snarl and Swoop. They needed some guidance and they needed a lot of space, so they didn't exactly have a choice but to integrate them with the already existing Dinobots on Dinobot Island. Optimus, Elita, Hook, Crosshairs, Hound, Drift, Dominus, Ambulon, Strongarm, Smokescreen, Blaster and Soundwave all gathered to oversee the five beastformers meeting and were at first suspicious by how neither Sludge nor Slag tried to challenge Grimlock for dominance and leadership. Grimlock looked suspicious, too, but it would appear that Slag and Sludge were the more peaceful type, much like Swoop and Snarl. Grimlock was the only one with ambition and a sense of leadership. Elita and Blaster were still watching them, just in case something happens. Elita at least had her venom to put them into stasis lock, should the need arise, and Blaster can contact them in a matter of nanoseconds if there is an incident. So far so good on that front.

The Orion was coming along nicely. He still couldn't believe he was standing in the presence of such a legendary ship and he _longed_ to go through the captain's log and read the reports. It would be like reading stilted history. Even a thousand and fifty stellar cycles of running his own state and saving thousands upon thousands of mechs hadn't managed to quell his old passion. And both the Orion and Megatron really weren't helping the situation.

Megatron ... He was better behaved than any of their previous temporary Decepticon guests. He seemed to have taken Optimus' words to spark and never even hinted at breaking a rule. He didn't bother any of his soldiers that had defected nor did he try to start an uprising with the ones still determined to continue fighting in the war as Decepticons in order ti get the AllSpark. He stayed well behaved and kept out of places he was told only the Republic's mechs can go into. He seemed to be quite content to marvel at Metroplex and its people and he had purchased tickets for the play last night instead for the premiere. Sari had told him the warlord had flagged her down when she was leaving the hospital, a few hours after he had left him with Dominus Ambus. She said he appeared rather confused by the plot and it made Optimus _wonder_ what the play had been about. He hadn't bothered to read the plot, Drift had recommended it. As long as it wasn't that tragi-comedy they've made out of Shakespear's _Romeo and Juliet_ and the legend of Megatronus Prime and Solus Prime, it should be good enough. He still wasn't sure if the human director for that one had been smoking that weed humans use as syk or if whoever had helped him thought it would be hilarious. In truth, Optimus probably found it cringe-worthy mostly because of his own personal situation. The rest seemed to mostly like it well enough. Still not a play he'd want Megatron watching. He had his hopes that Drift hadn't decided to pull his former commander's stabilizerstruts, though he had no idea Optimus would tell Megatron to watch it ...

Then again, his innermost circle knew him well enough to be able to make an educated guess that, _yes_, he _would_ recommend it to the warlord. Optimus shook his head, sighed and looked back to the pile of datapads on his desk that he still had to go through. It wasn't too big of a pile and it was the last one for today but he still had quite a bit of work in front of him. Prime often times wondered if his officers were trying to kill him with the reports he had to look through every day. Or maybe intimidate him to leave his office more often than just to greet guests and go about his business? They sure did treat Galvatron like a gift from Primus since it ensured he had some _actual_ down time he will get to use for relaxation instead of a stroll to check up on everyone. Not that he _minded_ spending time with the sparkling but he still wasn't sure he was the best for him. He needed a flier like him to help him control his flight systems. But he had chosen Optimus, which meant they'll have to do as best as they can when they start from scratch. At least Galvatron will be mature enough to let up a little by the time his weapon systems come online so he can get proper training from warframes. Until then, Optimus had to nurture him. Thank the AllSpark they had a _youth center_. At least Galvatron was busy most of the time there, playing with other sparklings and learning under Arcee's watchful optic. She was a Primus-sent, he swears.

He looked to the pictures on his desk, all of which were of his closest friends and officers, then looked back at his workload and sighed. _What_ he wouldn't give for at least _one_ of them to be a history datapad. He gave a soft, resigned groan and reached for the next item on today's work list. He was deeply focused on Soundwave's report about the ground bridge monthly maintenance check-up, wondering how to get the wearing-down part they needed to replace for save travel, when he heard a knock on his door. He looked up, reset his optics in confusion - people tended to let him do his work undisturbed so he can finish as soon as possible and rest a little - and called for whoever was in front of his office to come in. You can imagine his surprise when in came Megatron with a datapad, actually looking somewhere between his usual confident almost arrogant self and _sheepish_ of all things.

Optimus automatically went into disaster mode.

"Oh my Primus, what did you _do_?" Sheepishness was _never_ a good thing on Earth. Every single time someone had come to him, especially in his office, with an air of sheepishness around them, it meant they had done something that they _really_ shouldn't have. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe come to him like that once a week, _every_ week, like clockwork. He knows better than to ignore a possible disaster waiting to happen or one that probably already _had_ happened. Metroplex might have _peace_ but it was actually far from being the true meaning of _peaceful_. There was _always_ something going on. Though how Megatron could have gotten into trouble without Optimus first being informed about it was something he'd like an answer to. No way either or both Soundwave and Blaster, workaholics extraordinaire, weren't doing their job ...

On second thought, maybe it _is_ possible, if Soundwave finally told the former Autobot how he felt. It would be about damn time. He was cute in his floundering like only newly sparked Cybertronians can be, even if he had an adult body, but enough was enough. They all just wanted those two to either get together or for Soundwave to be put out of his misery.

Megatron reset his optics at him in confusion and faltered just inside his door. "I don't think borrowing a datapad from your archives is _so_ bad. At least the bot there didn't seem to think so. Especially not given the fact that I contributed to your - very impressive, might I add. I'm surprised by the amount of datapads and data chips you have for such a young community - collection."

"Contributed? How so?" It wasn't really all that rare. The original collection had consisted of two thousand three hundred seventy eight datapads and seven hundred fifty two data chips as well as some rather primitive data storing methods that were far older than anyone currently living in Metroplex. Optimus would know, as he had read them all in the first stellar cycle. But with every bot that came, even those who stayed only temporarily, their Archives got bigger and fuller. They had to start investing in datapads and chips if they wanted to store all those stories and records. Fortunately, they had where to get new datapads until they started making them themselves, about half a millennia ago. There used to be plenty of raiders of both Autobot and Decepticon ships or any other merchant vessels, for that matter. And since the Independent Cybertronian Republic had more than enough energon to spare and then got Swerve and his concoctions, they could get _plenty_ of datapads. Every independent or under the table merchant loved a customer with a stable economy to pay them their credits or, in the Republic's case, their _energon_. Energon was rather high in demand these days. The mines on Cybertron were practically dry, in Intelligence reports are to be believed - and they _are_. Soundwave was too good at his job. Arcee and Blaster had taught him well - and the field crops are failing little by little every stellar cycle. The Independent Cybertronian Republic had _more_ than enough both energon and oil to sell it at a standard, reasonable price and it was only putting more credits in their public account. It helps when they need to barter or trade with other species that _don't_ want energon. It also maintains their ships and Metroplex and everything in between. There's a _reason_ no one needs to pay for medical care.

A country led and ran good is a country that can take care of _all_ of its people, not just the privileged ones.

"I believe your friend Ariel insinuated you might be interested in this," Megatron said with an expectant smile as he extended the datapad towards the confused civilianframe. Curious, Optimus took it, warily watching Megatron as he did so. Anything _Elita_ suggested had the potential to embarrass or exasperate him and he still had quite a few datapads to go through before tonight's conclave. Megatron must have seen the suspicion because he continued talking. "Age- Dominus Ambus confirmed it and I checked your collection's inventory and it seems you indeed do not have one. I downloaded a copy for the archives and one for you. I think you deserve a gift, as small as it may be, of gratitude for what you have done for all of my soldiers and people here, former or not. I don't think you _need_ it as you've more than dressed any issues I've found in our own society, but if you are interested ... Here, just take the blasted thing."

And so the datapad was unceremoniously thrust into his outstretched servo, making him scramble for it in order to prevent it from falling to the floor. He gave the warlord a reprimanding look for that but turned on the datapad and waited a short moment for the contents to upload. He couldn't help but reset his optics in rapid succession a few times, not sure what he was seeing was what he _thought_ he was seeing. He rubbed at them and when the words on the first page didn't change, he felt them widen as they turned to stare up at the Decepticon, who looked expectant and a bit uncomfortable. Optimus looked back to the datapad and scrolled to the second page, even more surprised to see a personal dedication and an autograph.

_To Optimus,_

_The one bot who had managed to make this manuscript obsolete. Best wishes and a long function,_

_Sincerely,_

_Lord Megatron_

He scrolled down a little more and further down to the last page, recognizing the final lines as the famous ending of this particular text and he looked back up at Megatron as the datapad automatically scrolled back up to the first page. The words _Towards Peace_ made him wish for a second that he was a human so he can pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming, but the brush of Megatron's EM field against his own was more than real enough. He opened his intake to say something, only to find his vocalizer had betrayed him. Not that he was sure there were any words he could have said. This was _beyond_ any expectations he could have had.

A thousand and fifty stellar cycles ago, he had found an uncensored copy but never got a chance to read it. No one that came, Autobot, Decepticon or neutral, had a copy or they hadn't read it or they didn't save it on their memory drives for them to transfer it to a datapad. And now the author of the text was standing in front of him and had personalized a copy just for him out of simple _gratitude_. For what? He only did what was right.

He will finally have a chance to read it. After all these years, he'll finally read about the _exact_ circumstances that had led to Megatron's rebellion. He will finally _understand_ why it all started, why _this_ was needed, why _he_ was _needed_.

A tingling warmth spread from his chest and he looked up gratefully at Megatron, unable to repress his excitement or the smile on his face. "Thank you. I've been searching for this for _stellar cycles_. I appreciate it."

The gray mech nodded, hands folded behind his back in a move of natural confidence. "The data clerk that helped me upload it said you are trying to teach us all about our _shared_ history, a view from both sides. My later speeches wouldn't be a good example, but I think _that_," he nodded towards the datapad Optimus held almost reverently in his blue servos. "Would help explain my reasons and why so many were willing to follow me. I also fear you might have to deal with a civil war on Cybertron. The last reports I got from my Intelligence agents suggest that there is energon shortage and that they're pushing the colony mines too hard. A rebellion is bound to occur soon enough. And with rebellion comes refugees. Political dissents. I think you'll get yourself some more civilians here."

"That your personal or professional opinion?" Optimus couldn't help but ask in a jesting tone before he went back to staring at the little unexpected miracle in his servos. He knew most people wouldn't be this excited over a datapad containing out of date, obsolete texts, but this was the _one_ thing he truly regretted not doing before he had left Cybertron all those stellar cycles ago. It was a gift he will treasure greatly, especially as Megatron himself had went out of his way to make him a copy with a personal message and his signature. He looked over to his workload, back to _Towards Peace_ and the other datapads again and groaned in dismay. "You're _evil_. You did this to _torture_ me. I want to read it immediately _so bad_ but I _can't_. I still have so much work to do before the conclave and now you've brought me this ... _temptation_ and I won't be able to _focus_ at all." He was pouting, it was undignified and he knew his innermost circle would either tease or scold him for acting like a sparkling but this was so _unfair_! You don't just go presenting a history bot with the _one_ text they've been searching for for well over a _thousand _stellar cycles! He'd been trying to find this since he was in boot camp!

Megatron frowned a little, throwing a look over a shoulder pauldron at the door, as though he could see through them. "Your ... secretary told me that now would be the opportune moment for a visit. If I had known you were busy, I would have come later."

Optimus groaned again. Ramjet had been watching the Pirates of the Caribbean again, hadn't he. He had hoped people would stop indulging him, he was starting to sound like Jack Sparrow and was even picking up his penchant to lie when he saw fit. True, Ramjet was just one of themany, _many_ mechs that are trying to ensure 'Optimus' processor doesn't rot right out of his helm' from so much work, but this was the first time he did something that might keep Prime _longer_ in his office. On that thought ... "How did you even _get in_? Visiting and consulting hours are over." Otherwise, there would be too many people always loitering around HQ and no one would be getting anything done. Red Alert - while he had still been the Head of Security before Hound took him off duty since he was getting too paranoid and anxious and it was becoming Pit for his always fluttering spark before it led him to an early offlining; he was still stressing, but not nearly as much, when working as the head nurse for Ambulon in the hospital - had, Primus bless him, organized later morning hours for citizens to come make suggestions, complaints, consultations and/or state problems that someone in the administration might have overlooked. It saved them all.a lot of trouble and additional work and kept up the freedom and equality in their society.

Megatron shrugged, looking back at the Prime. "I asked a bright orange seeker and he showered me in praise before he all but dragged me here, complimenting everything we passed. It was a bit disturbing, to be honest."

That had to be Sunstorm. Optimus looked at him in sympathy. One of Slipstream's brothers was enough but _two_ in the same joor? "I apologize if their behavior unsettled you. They are young and can get ... a little over excited or mischievous."

"How many of your officers are young, Optimus Prime?" The gray mech asked in curiosity but their conversation was interrupted when the door swished open and Ramjet stuck his dark, cone-shaped helm from the side.

"I'm not sorry at all to interrupt your conversation but CMO Hook is most definitely not requiring a confirmation that you will be making your appointment at the agreed time before tonight."

"Tell him I'll be there," Optimus answered his secretary - Elita had placed him because he was such a good liar so he can convincingly tell people to leave because Optimus wasn't there when said mech might as well be standing beside him but was a good mech and a hard worker; if _only_ he didn't like lying so much and didn't make a fictional, mischievous, tricky, at times liar and annoyance of a pirate captain his role model in life - and rubbed his nasal ridge when all Ramjet said was "I will do no such thing," while already pinging Hook to follow the orders and leaving him with his guest. Megatron looked even more disturbed by Ramjet than he had Sunstorm. He wasn't sure whether it was funny or sad that this was the reality of his most competent seeker's trine-mates. "Sorry, but we'll have to cut this short. If I'm late or don't show up, Hook will drag me out of here and to his medbay himself."

Megatron nodded and turned towards the door. "Then I shall leave you to your work. When and where is this meeting taking place?"

"Oh, sorry, but ... It's only for permanent residents of the Republic." It had to be. "We all gather once every three months and ... discuss ... some things." Optimus winced at his poor explanation, but he never did try to make a better one when people had bothered to ask in the past. Megatron was shooting him a suspicious look but decided to let it go and gave him a farewell before he left his office, leaving Prime alone. He looked at the gift still in his servo and his spark fluttered in excitement.

He went back to work, barely being able to wait to read it.


	12. Chapter 12

**Thief**

**Summary: Ancient cities and artifacts of great power don't just disappear on their own! The number of defections rises. A group of washouts and a warlord wind up on a world unlike any they've seen before and the leader is interesting enough. Peace. Equallity. And no factions, put your weapons down, Primus damn it!**

"Are you sure you want me there?" Bumblebee stopped in his tracks before he could turn the corner in the plant that led to the Autobots' temporary living quarters when he heard Prowl's voice, sounding somewhat unsure. That was unexpected and incredibly rare for the black and gold mech. In fact, Bumblebee was sure he had heard him sound like that exactly _once_, when they had accidentally found him on that one random floating space rock with a space bridge mounted on it for no logical reason whatsoever. It was surprising enough that Prowl was still living at their makeshift base, still, but Ratchet had insisted on checking his coding every day until the Orion and its crew leave Earth. "I know I said I will stay, but how can you be sure to trust me? This is a conclave you said only Republic mecha attend to-"

"And you are now one of those mechs, Prowl," answered the familiar voice of Optimus Prime, or Bossbot, as Bumblebee liked to call him in his head. What he was doing here was anyone's guess. He recognized Ratchet's continued unease around him and rarely dropped by. In fact, Bumblebee could count on one servo that Bossbot had been here. Or talked to them directly. Docbot was still waiting for some attempt at converting them into Prime's followers, but no one made a move to even _try_ it. Prowl insisted he had made the decision to stay all on his own, but Ratchet doubted it. "We have to start treating you like one. In the end, it's your choice. You can come if you wish but no one will force you. If you decide to come, be in the Basilica a bit before midnight. That's when we'll start. I know you will have questions later, when we're done, so feel free to seek me out whenever you feel ready to talk about it. Don't fret about it. You're not the only bot being there for the first time for this. You might be the newest to Earth, but not everyone makes as swift a decision as you. If you're not sure, you're free to back out before midnight. No one will judge you for it."

"I'm sure about my decision," Prowl insisted in a stubborn tone that Bumblebee was _also_ unfamiliar with. "I just don't want you or anyone else thinking I am doing this for the Autobots."

"Did anyone say that to you?"

"No, but I _did_ overhear some bots discussing it. I don't blame them. I would probably think much the same myself, if I were in their place. Swerve assures me that it's just that everyone's protective and possessive. I just don't want to cause you problems."

There was a long breem of silence before Optimus spoke up again. "I trust your sincerity, Prowl. And Swerve is right - please don't tell him I ever said that or he'll become insufferable - about them being protective. But if you come tonight, it will only prove to them that you _are_ serious about this. I don't want you degrading yourself. Everyone here is equal. You're _welcome_, Prowl. You always will be."

"Then I guess I will see you tonight," Prowl answered without a klik of hesitation and the atmosphere seemed a lot less tense. Bumblebee scrambled a bit back when he heard Optimus chuckle and the two exchanging goodbyes, making it to the end of the corridor and walking loudly as if he'd just arrived instead of eavesdropping.

He made himself perk up when he was a few mechanometers away from the approaching red and blue mech. "Hey, Bossbot! What's up?" He asked as cheerfully as he could, offering a big smile as he waved at the taller bot. Optimus arched an optic ridge but smiled and returned his greeting. They exchanged a few pleasantries before Optimus excused himself and left. The yellow speedster watched him go, a plan forming in his processor. If Ratchet was so suspicious of this place, then it only made _sense_ that someone follow Prowl to this secret conclave thing and find out what it was all about, right?

_'Time to play ninjabots,'_ he thought in excitement and headed to his room to recharge. He'll need to be well rested for the late night he will be pulling.

00000

In all the time they had spent here, Ratchet had never seen Metroplex and Detroit so crowded with mechs and femmes of all shapes and sizes and colors and ages and frame types. It was almost like Cybertron, before things went to slag with the war and all. He wasn't sure he liked it that Optimus Prime had so much mecha devoted to him. None of them were wearing badges or brands and seemed to be rather familiar with each other. Swerve's was full and it was only because Swerve owed Drift a couple of favors that they even got their orders before nightfall. But the bar was full and so Drift had insisted on them taking a walk through the city. Ratchet had agreed, not wanting to be stuck in a stuffed place like that, only to find that there was very little difference out in the streets.

He had to hold on to Drift's servo in order not to be separated from the former Decepticon, much to the mech's amused pleasure and Ratchet's grumpy resignation to his fate. In truth, he didn't mind neatly as much as he was complaining, but it was best not to give the other ideas. When Deadlock got ideas ... Well, Ratchet had never been able to say no. Still, he wasn't sure how to react to all of these bots walking around so freely. Even before the war, there hadn't been such a cultural mix. Grounders, fliers, civilians and warframes alike, _Minicons_, minibots and front-liners, racers and seekers and transport vehicles, both aerial and terrain and there was even one that had taken the alt of a Earth aquatic vessel! Pit, Ratchet had seen Camianans and bots from other colonies or independent Cybertronian worlds. He saw a _Praxian_ strutting about with overly excited door-wings just a few blocks down the road! Praxians almost _never_ left Praxus.

It didn't matter what sort of alt mode or frame type a mech or femme had, _everyone_ was here. It lacked structure, it lacked class or casts or any restrictions by law or function or sheer _size_ ... It felt a lot like equality and freedom.

And Prowl had decided to stay here.

Now, Ratchet can rant at the cyberninja until he was even bluer in the face about all the possible traps and tricks this Utopian society might possess, but even he himself knew that all of his arguments were rather shallow and lacked evidence. Not that they _couldn't_ be true just because they still haven't seen a possible dark side to Metroplex, but Ratchet had been around long enough to know _nothing_ is as perfect as this place seemed to be. Sure, Optimus-self-proclaimed-Prime can go ahead and reassure them all he wants that Metroplex wasn't run on the labor of bots, but a city had to run on _something_. And not just a city, an entire Galactic-Council-recognized _state_! Just because they haven't seen the labor doesn't mean it's not there. All these mechs can go and spin ballades about the Independent Cybertronian Republic of Earth and its noble leader all they want, Ratchet won't believe it until he'd seen the darkest Pit this place has.

He doesn't trust a bot who doesn't have a dark side.

Optimus had made it clear they had mines and even energon fields. That meant workers. That meant mecha stuck under the ground for who knows _how_ long or mecha exposed to this planet's primary star - though Ratchet had no idea where they could have those energon fields when energon and organics don't exactly mix well. Optimus said they had a ship yard. A well hidden one, but Optimus had clearly said they had one. Which meant _more_ workers and more mecha who were potentially underpaid or mistreated. There were construction workers. Ratchet had _seen_ them with his own optics and though they seemed to be having fun while they built or assisted in building, he didn't know whether they had started off as _willing_ workers. Besides Hook and maybe Hound, he didn't know if the other medical staff was being threatened to remain. And let's not even begin about how dubious he was about Cybertronians working with humans as policemen, firefighters and medics and the such. As stupid as it might be, Ratchet knew most of their species is taught to be _terrified_ of organics. It used to be for good reason, but now it was just plain xenophobia.

He doubted things could change _that_ much.

And yet, looking at the mech who used to be Deadlock and loved massacres and energon-stained battlefields, noticing all the changes in Drift, Ratchet couldn't help but doubt his 'conspiracy theories', as the humans called them. Drift looked and _felt_ genuinely content like Ratchet had seen and felt him only once before, a long time ago, near the end of that crazy - wonderful - decacycle, and even then it hadn't been to this extent. He watched as the former Decepticon exchanged greetings with thousands of mechs and femmes of both factions, sharing a word or an inside joke here or there and happily dragging Ratchet along through his new home city. The level of cheer and peace amongst the gathered crowds, the familiarity, the friendliness ... You can't fake that. The air was _buzzing_ with happy EM fields as their owners greeted friends and old rivals or enemies that were now friends. Ratchet _wanted_ to stick with his theories of a shadow lurking somewhere in the streets and alleys of this city, but it was hard to cling to it when the proof of the exact _opposite_ was being shoved into his face.

The oil tasted good when he took a sip. He knew Arcee was okay and doing what she loved the most. Apparently, Lockdown was one of the mechs strictly forbidden from landing on Earth, even though he can seek refuge on the Moon, or so Arcee told him. Former Decepticons - some of whom were weapons of mass destruction even _without_ their weapon systems or battle protocols on - were walking around former Autobots as if they were made of fragile glass that needed to be taken care of _extra_ carefully. A familiar servo was holding his own and a well missed EM field was brushing his. If Ratchet didn't know any better, he'd say this was just a dream his processor had made up or that he indeed was in the Well of AllSparks to have such peace after his turbulent life. It was almost perfect. Almost only because he still didn't dare take Optimus and Sari on their offer regarding the Orion. Almost because he feared if he believed in this, he'll eventually realize it _is_ only a dream and be devastated upon waking up.

"Hey, Earth to Ratchet. Come in, Ratchet," a servo waved in front of his optics to accompany the call and the red and white ambulance gave a jerk as he came crashing down into the present, only to be met with two concerned red optics. "Lost you there for a sec, Doc. You okay?" Drift asked even as he maneuvered them out of the way just before those two racing menaces, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, rushed by with another red and two other cars, one blue and one green that resembled Bumblebee, in a race. From what Ratchet can see, it would be a photo-finish and the crowds were either cussing or cheering at them. It appears to be a regular thing. A police car zoomed past them as well, sirens loud and blaring. That was Barricade, if Ratchet remembered correctly. At least justice and order was quick on their tail. Barricade, as Bumblebee had learned, is _very_ good at his job.

"I'm _fine_," he grumbled at his former Decepticon companion and sent him a severe glare. He still wondered why Drift put up with his rotten attitude. It can't be that he really _enjoyed_ Ratchet's company after he had became so jagged over the stellar cycles! Pit, some days _Ratchet_ wanted to run away from Ratchet with how bad he can be. He wasn't the same 'Ratchet the Hatchet' he had been when he and Deadlock first met. He was far from the same bot, meaner, ruder and yet Drift stayed. It both hurt and warmed his spark because he liked the idea Deadlock hadn't changed his mind from all that time ago and hated that this encounter will be probably just as brief. Ratchet was an Autobot. He'd been an Autobot for as long as he remembered. He'd go to the scrap heap an Autobot. He can't just _defect_ and _leave it all behind_. No matter how much he at times wanted to. "What's with all the new bots? Can this little planet even house us all? _Where'd_ they even _come_ from?"

The cyberninja chuckled and jumped up, dragging Ratchet with him with an undignified yelp, until they were walking on one of the ledges built on buildings for days like these when the city is too crowded so people don't bump into each other too much. He steadied Ratchet and pinged a bridge to lower down so they can cross to the next building. "This is a ritual, of sorts. Well, _tonight_ is the ritual itself, but we all gather a few joors before it begins to catch up a bit. As that sentence would suggest, we've done this before and yes, Earth _can_ take us all. As for where they came from, that's a bit harder to say. The Republic may have taken refuge on Earth as our 'home planet' but we have many allies who house our 'representatives', if they wish to stay. And this solar system as a whole is ours. We have space stations for exploration and exploitation purposes so we can deal adequately with humans and other species, or get the goods for our own purposes. For instance, Silverbolt and the Aerialbots, as they decided to call themselves to stick out from the other flightframes, usually stick to Mercury for the silicates there that make some slagging fine glass. Or there is Steeljaw and his rowdy group of idiots that frequently go to Pluto for nitrogen and carbon monoxide. There's a whole settlement on Mars and several more on Saturn and Jupiter. And then there are bots who travel the universe as our merchants. Swerve's stuff is the best on the market so we tend to make a _lot_ of credits on it. There are still bots searching for adventure, as well, so they go off on short trips. Not to mention that there are mechs and femmes who want to explore Earth or live and work in other cities. Just because Metroplex is in Detroit doesn't mean they can't see the _rest_ of the planet. What good is having a ground bridge if you don't use it!"

"Something which I wanted to ask you about, actually," the medic said, letting Drift drag him over the bridge when it settled and wincing when a pair of warframes flew over their head, speaking excitedly in a thick Tarnian accent Ratchet could barely make out. He wasn't sure a civilianframe had _ever_ set foot in Tarn. Kaon, yes. Tarn ... At least Ratchet never _heard_ of somebot stepping into Tarnian territory, but what did he know? He only knows for sure that all old Decepticon cities save their capitol, Kaon, remain abandoned and Kaon only housed Trypticon prison and docks. He decided to leave that train of thought since it was bearing no fruits in better understanding the Republic and its mechs and instead focused back on their current topic of conversation. "What in the name of the AllSpark _is_ this _ground bridge_? I've only heard of _space bridges_ before, but never a _ground_ one. What's it supposed to do, exactly?"

"It's a scaled down, and much cheaper, version of a space bridge and works, as its name suggests, on the ground. Or rather, unlike its space counterpart, the ground bridge can transport you anywhere on a single planet and _maybe_ into its core or atmosphere, but we'd have to put a lot more energon into it for that than for usual uses so it's not exactly cost-beneficial. We use it for cheaper, better, faster and safer transport all over the planet. No way for humans to try and _steal_ anything, though this annoying organization, M.E.C.H. has tried often enough. Their leader, Silas, even tried kidnapping Optimus. You can just _imagine_ how well _that_ went. You don't mess with Optimus Prime."

"And _where_, pray tell, are we going right now?" Ratchet grumbled, making a note on the ground bridge travel thing being more cost-effective than space bridges. Cybertron ran exclusively on space bridges for _everything_. Drift was right about it being cheaper than a space bridge. Those things guzzled energon faster than Bumblebee's racing. If he could figure out how the thing worked, maybe Cybertron's energon shortage could be reduced somewhat so they aren't on _rations_.

All such thoughts fled his processor when Drift turned around to look at him with a familiar look in his optics. Ratchet felt his whole frame start to heat up and a charge running through his circuits. "My place. I thought we could ... catch up on lost time." That grindid _things_ to the medic and he knew he was snared. "For old times sake. Just ... _you_," Drift suddenly whirled around and brought the ambulance closer until they were chassis to chassis. The shorter mech gulped. "And _me_."

Well, _frag_.

00000

Bumblebee almost missed Prowl when the older bot started making his way out of the plant. Bulkhead was out like a light after a party he went to with those Constructicons he'd made friends with and Ratchet was nowhere to be found, so it was perfectly okay for Bumblebee to focus his sole attention on avoiding discovery by Prowl as he followed the cyberninja through the streets of Detroit and towards Metroplex.

The streets had never been so hauntingly _empty_ ever since they had landed here and it was freaking Bumblebee out. This place had always been so full of life, even at night, and yet now there was not a single soul to be seen or heard. The lights in some apartments were on but most of the windows were black, lacking the light from inside to comtribute to the street lights. Metroplex had never resembled Iacon at night more than now. Quiet, empty, as though all of its inhabitants were afraid to go out because a sparkeater or a scraplet might attack them. The windows that showed signs of life no doubt belonged to the guests, like Bumblebee himself, who were far outnumbered by the mechs that lived here permanently. Without most of its lights, Metroplex had a clear star-lit sky overhead and Bumblebee was struck by how ... _peaceful_ it was. Iacon, even in the dark of night, was _never_ peaceful. There was always tension in the air. No one was ever truly relaxed.

For the first time, Bumblebee wondered if Prowl had the right idea regarding staying in this place.

Before he could ponder that, though, they arrived to the wide street leading up to the Basilica and Bumblebee slowly and quietly turned back to root mode at the same time Prowl did to avoid detection. He had seen the trick in holovids and movies as to avoid detection because transformation sequences were _loud_. He watched as Prowl walked up to the Basilica and was greeted by unknown bots as though they knew him their whole functions. Prowl, who had been tense and Bumblebee hadn't even realized it until that tension drained out of him, relaxed and greeted the bots back just as friendly, though he seemed a bit confused at the warm welcome. Considering the conversation Bumblebee had overheard, the cyberninja had probably thought he wouldn't be allowed entry. A few other bots walked up to the huge doors and exchanged greetings with everyone as they went and then the doors started closing. Bumblebee realized it was only minutes to midnight and ran as quietly but as fast as he could to the door, but it still slammed shut in his face faceplates with a deafening bang that had an air of finality to it.

The yellow racer glared at the big hunks of metal but the light from a colored window caught his optic and an idea formed. Just a couple of kliks before midnight found Bumblebee comfortably perched on the ledge of one such window that he was surprised was open. Just a little, but it was enough for sound to come out, though he couldn't see much. There were too many big mechs and femmes in front of him and not all of them were darkly colored. He could hear Optimus Prime talking but he wondered if his language module was somehow malfunctioning, because he couldn't understand a thing he was saying. Though, if he thought about it, it didn't exactly sound like he was addressing the gathered mecha. It sounded more like he was ... What was it that some more religious mechs did when around the Primal Basilica back in Iacon? Oh, yeah! Praying. It sounded like Optimus was praying. But the dialect _he_ was using sounded like nonsense to Bumblebee's audios. He started recording, wondering if Ratchet might be able to discern what it meant.

Somewhere, a clock struck midnight just as the prayer ended and when Optimus' voice came this time, it was _definitely_ addressing the crowd.

"My fellow Cybertronians, once again, we find ourselves in this sacred place to receive this blessing. I cannot thank you enough for all that you have done and continue to do for our community. Let us welcome all those who have joined us tonight as we feast. We share our peace with all who long for it and we welcome all those who seek a safe haven. Though this is not Cybertron, though many of you may never see it again, we are home. For home is where we are accepted as we are. So be accepted. Let this life giving power flow through your frames and recognize the love it is given with. We will continue our sacred mission in the morning, but tonight, we bask in this moment of rest and serenity. All are welcome here. We are waiting. Till All Are One."

"Till All Are One!" The gathered crowd roared together and Bumblebee's very struts vibrated with it. He nearly fell over when his spark lurched and he wondered what was going on.

The power wave and the blinding light were the last things he remembers before it all went dark.


	13. Chapter 13

**Thief**

**Summary: Ancient cities and artifacts of great power don't just disappear on their own! The number of defections rises. A group of washouts and a warlord wind up on a world unlike any they've seen before and the leader is interesting enough. Peace. Equallity. And no factions, put your weapons down, Primus damn it!**

Ratchet returned to the plant the next day, early at noon, feeling better than he had in a million stellar cycles, well rested and well fragged and actually a bit optimistic, a very rare thing, indeed. Then again, Deadlock had had that same effect on him all those stellar cycles ago, too, even when their situation had been much more dire than the one he found himself in these days. Though, he wasn't very pleased to find Drift gone when he came online this morning to find a note to explain the former Decepticon's absence, as it reminded him far too much about their last night together, back on that colony. He guessed he could excuse the cyberninja, if it was a meeting regarding none other than the _Orion_. Apparently, it was ready to leave the ship yard for a test flight and the High Command was having a meeting about it in HQ to determine the best time and route it can take for said test flight.

The plant was empty save for Bulkhead when he walked over to their energon dispenser in the entertainment room, which was rather odd. At least _Bumblebee_ should have been getting up around now though Prowl would be long gone to observe this planet's various organic species. But when he asked after the two, Bulkhead simply replied that he hadn't seen either since yesterday afternoon, which didn't sit well with Ratchet and his relaxed state almost instantly replaced itself with a worried medic slash acting commanding officee. Ever since that good for nothing Topheat was assigned to them, Ratchet had to play commanding officer while making sure the arrogant mech didn't notice. The mech was too uninterested in everything to notice, complaining about his fate on a space bridge repair crew, so at least it was easy most of the time. At other times, he wanted to play commander and Ratchet had been forced to pound out dents that should have never been on a repair bot when he would tell Bumblebee or Bulkhead to pull some stunts while they were repairing bridges. The medibot wasn't at all ashamed to say he hated the slagger and that he hoped he was at least stranded somewhere, and only because his medic's ethics and coding prevented him from wanting death on anyone.

The result of such a bad commander being assigned to them was that Ratchet had to pick up the slack and he knew slagging well little of how to run a unit. He wasn't an Elita Guard mech, for crying out loud! He was a _medic_! His job description was keep everyone online and be grumpy at _least_ 20% of the time. He can do that. What he _can't_ do is direct bots. You need _training_ or special _coding_ for that. He wasn't a _warframe_ to make a half decent general. Which meant he had to get a lot more involved. He couldn't earn respect or undying loyalty, not like a true leader can, but he could, ahem, _inspire_ the young bots to listen to him, _encouraging_ them with a threat of a wrench. As long as they listened to him, they could stay out of the scrap heap or smelter a few orbital cycles longer.

Now, as he and Bulkhead transformed and went out to search for Bumblebee with dread weighting his spark, Ratchet wondered how better off their little crew really would have been with Optimus Prime instead of Topheat Minor. The self-proclaimed Prime, despite how arrogant that made him seem, was actually a really nice and kind mechanism. He seemed capable of earning loyalty and respect without needing to demand it and he appeared fair from what Ratchet had seen of him so far, disregarding his constant doubts and suspicions about what this community was hiding from everyone else that wasn't a permanent resident. And from what Prowl had told them, Optimus was quite handy in a fight, as he had managed to take down both of those huge beastformers that had come online in that Dino Drive amusement park or whatever the slag that was. Would he have been a good leader? Without a doubt; kid ran an entire multi-planetary _state_ quite successfully all by his _very_ young self. Would Bumblebee and Bulkhead listen to him? Prowl would and already did. Bulkhead would, too. He seemed rather impressed by Optimus. Bumblebee had been awed of him from the first day, too. Called him a right badaft. Would _Ratchet_ learn to respect someone so much younger than him who was ready to give _everyone_ a chance?

Well, he was kind of already giving him one now, what with his ship and Arcee and Drift and staying on this planet for as long as he had.

The thought actually made him somewhat mournful and regretful that Optimus had left after all, despite what the mech said about this being for the better. Ratchet wanted to say the mech was just running away from his problems, that he was just avoiding responsibility and using the impossibility of the AllSpark finding them twice as an excuse, except he could _feel_ it in the other's field. Prime was content. He had no regrets to torture him. And he even got the unit he had been assigned in the first place, despite how impossible it had seemed they'd cross paths again. If Ratchet weren't half way atheist, he'd say a greater power was at work.

Before he could ponder that any longer, though, he heard Bulkhead transform mid-ride and stopped just in time to avoid being crashed into by a speeding yellow car with a black racing stripe and an anxiously fluttering EM field. He transformed before the young bot could crash into him, but his efforts were useless as Bumblebee didn't bother stopping to transform and all but lunged at Ratchet. The medic grunted as he was slammed right into the hard, uncomfortable, unforgiving concrete and his vents wheezed as the air was practically squeezed out of them. He rubbed his aching helm and scowled at the yellow speedster when he felt a dent at the back of it, his earlier worry forgotten. "Bumblebee! Are you glitched!? You could have hurt someone a lot less sturdy with that driving of yours!" He yelled, optics casting pointed looks at the humans nearby. As far as he could tell, none were hurt nor was anyone particularly surprised at the over energized driving stunt Bumblebee had pulled, though they did appear curious and surprised at something _else_. Ratchet didn't know humans well enough to figure out what was so surprising.

Besides, he had an all but bouncing and vibrating young bot sitting on him and shaking him by the shoulderstruts to deal with, flinching at the erratic pulsating of his field against the medic's own.

"Oh my Primus, Ratchet, I have no idea what was going on but everyone was there, hundred of mechs were there, big and small and everything in between on the color spectrum and they were all standing there and Optimus was speaking gibberish and then he said something _really_ inspirational and then there was this really bright light and suddenly my tanks were full and that injury from that little asteroid hitting me was suddenly gone and I felt _great_ and I think they're all a part of some sect, because Optimus was talking strange and-"

"You either _slow down_ or I _shut you down_," Ratchet said in a threatening manner as his shoulders started aching from the shaking and his more intimate parts that had enjoyed some former-Decepticon attention last night were sending his processor their complaints, too. He was too old for this slag. Thankfully, Bumblebee got the message and, miraculously, shut up. The medic sighed and pushed the minibot off of him and stood up. Bubmlemee scrambled to his own pedes and continued fidgeting and vibrating with some ungodly energy. "Now, would you mind repeating that in galactic standard or any _other_ understandable language?"

"Okay, so I overheard Bossbot inviting Prowl to some gathering or something in that Basilica-like building and it was only supposed to be for Republic mecha. But since you're always so suspicious of Bossbot and this place, I decided to follow Prowl and see what everyone was up to. It was at midnight, so I slept the day away and then snuck out and followed Prowl when he left for the thing. I didn't manage to sneak into the meeting but I could listen from a slightly open window and it seemed the _whole city_ and _more_ was there and Optimus was talking about receiving a blessing and a feast and welcoming new members and how some of them will _never get to see Cybertron again_. And he talked about letting life giving power course through frames and love and sacred missions and that they can rest until tomorrow morning, that is _this_ morning and that they were _waiting_. I have no idea for whom or what and then he said 'Till AllAre One' and the everyone said it too and then there was this big flash of _light_ out of nowhere and a wave of power that knocked me to my aft and I suddenly felt like a brand new model and my tanks were full and my systems were at optimal capacity and I felt like I could drive all around the tristate area, so I did but then I realized my fuel levels weren't decreasing and I got scared and I panicked so I ran back here to tell you and to see whether they'd done some long distance signal hacking to my processor or if the fall caused a glitch-"

"Wait, what do you _mean_ your fuel levels _aren't_ _dropping_?!" Both Ratchet and Bulkhead yelled, startling Bumblebee out of his rant and stopping the bot in his tracks. The yellow speedster reset his optics at them and cocked his helm to the side that reminded Ratchet of Sari when she didn't quite understand something.

"Well, I drove around since pretty much since midnight last night up until now and when I checked my fuel levels, they haven't dropped one bit! Like, seriously! They're fuel even now and I feel _great_!"

"I'll be the judge of that. Give me your medical port," Ratchet grumbled and snatched Bumblebee's servo before the minibot could protest or do so himself, already running scans. What he found when they established an uplink had him gapping. Bumblebee wasn't kidding. His tanks were full of very potent energon, his systems were operating probably better than even when he was a newspark and any usual damages through use of gears and transformation seams was _gone_. Now that he thought about it, most of the bots here that he'd had a chance to look over during medical checkups in the hospital seemed almost untouched by time and life, as though he was examining newly onlined protoforms. The one Decepticon that had been sent his way so far had had traces of battle scars left, but no scar metal mesh tissue to justify the mark left on his plating. He had thought that maybe Metroplex had developed some sort of medical procedure to remove the scars and old war wounds to make moving on easier, what with their Science Division - he'd spoken to Ambulon, a mech he knew from the war, and he had told him that entire two floors of the HQ building was dedicated to scientific experiments, exploration and research. He wouldn't put it past bots in peace time developing cures for war time wounds. But this ... "How is this possible? Did you ingest anything before going there?"

There were zero radiation levels to make this some sort of chemical reaction, so obviously Bumblebee was safe. The energon he had last injected seemed to simply be ... replenishing itself _by_ itself. There were no toxic minerals or additives. Just plain old energon. And yet it wasn't being spent. Not even by 0.001%! It made no sense! This was impossible! There was no way energon would be acting like this! If it did, there wouldn't be an energon _shortage_ on Cybertron. Everybot would have as much fuel as they need for a lifetime and _then_ some. Which was insane and impossible and a fantasy ...

Except maybe it wasn't.

The Independent Cybertronian Republic (of Earth) had energon to _spare_, to _trade_ at a _reasonable price_ despite it being so high on demand that they could get richer than the whole Galactic Council if they decided to sell it at the same price as everyone else did these days. They made _blends_. They can use a ground bridge and a space bridge as they _please_. They have _space explorations_ and _mining expeditions_ on _other planets_ in this galaxy, which meant a _lot_ of fuel went to those ships. They make _high grade_. They make a _fortune_ with their exotic mixes and blends and oils and yet a barrel was at a _reasonable price_. They didn't have to up the prices much because they had a _constant_ income of energon from an unknown source that _couldn't_ be from Earth because organics can't survive proximity to raw energon. They had _energon farms_, for crying out loud! Where'd they get the crystals to _experiment_ with?

They've never seen some bot drink energon that wasn't high grade and that thing burns right through the frame as though it had never _been _there.

"Bumblebee, what was that light you were talking about? Can you explain it to me in more detail?"

"Well, it was really, _really_ bright and it knocked me on my aft because there was an almost physical shock wave, too. I got knocked out for a few kliks and when I rebooted my systems, I felt like I could beat Megatron in arm-wrestling!" The bot in question exclaimed with that same unexplainable energy that made Ratchet's struts ache with age and weariness.

"You better not try," a new voice drawled and all three Autobots flinched when they heard the deep disappointment in Prowl's voice. Said cyberninja, Ratchet noted when they turned to look at him, seemed to be in much the same state as Bumblebee, but seemed to be taking it better and wasn't nearly as jittery, and his Autobot badge was nowhere to be seen. He was cool, collected, his calm usual self except he was frowning in disapproval at them with arms crossed over his chassis. "Unlike you, I've been warned about the effects and I know for a fact it doesn't make a bot any stronger than they usually are so don't go challenging Decepticons to fights. The guests won't be so merciful and if the citizens find out ... Well, it would seem you're about to booted off of the planet."

"But no one saw me!" Bumblebee yelled in protest while Ratchet was filled with dread. "You're not going to tell on me, are you?" He challenged and Ratchet reached to hit him upside the head for provoking the cyberninja, but Bumblebee was already in Prowl's faceplates - or as best as he could be, given their height difference.

"Uh, guys?" Bulkhead said, trying to get their attention, but was ignored in favor of the tension between the black and yellow mechs. Ratchet was too busy focusing on them so he can separate them if it came to blows to mind Bulkhead tapping rather insistently at his upper arm.

Prowl's scowl just turned deeper. "I don't _need_ to. _Optimus_ probably knows. He _always_ knows. And even if he by some miracle _didn't_, _Soundwave_ is a _telepath_. _He_ will know and he's too _loyal_ not to report you. You hold no sympathy with him while Optimus practically _raised_ him. And I rather doubt some of Optimus' companions will take lightly to this."

"Do you think what I did was _wrong_? They're always keeping secrets from us! How are we to know whether we can trust them if we don't know what they're up to? They could very well be a covert op for the Decepticons!"

"Guys," Bulkhead sounded even more urgent but the pair were too deep in their argument to notice. Ratchet, though, did, this time and waved for him to hush.

"Optimus has been nothing but honest with us and was kind enough not only to offer us refuge but is also fixing _your ship_ for you, allowing you to roam freely as you please and giving you as much energon as you could possibly _want_. He isn't in any way obliged to do _any_ of that and yet he _has_."

"Guys!" Bulkhead yelled and the two older mechs looked up at him with scowls, only to see him frantically pointing at the sky with a panicked look in his optics. Bumblebee, though, was _still_ on a roll and continued without even looking up, showing a digit into Prowl's chassis right where his faction symbol used to be, drawing the motorcycle's attention back to him.

"And he's also done the same with _Megatron_!"

"Megatron!? I _destroyed_ Megatron when I placed the bomb on his back!" A loud, screechy, _familiar_ voice shrieked and filled Ratchet's audio sensors and he stiffened. Had it not been for Prowl, Starscream, the SIC of the Decepticons, would have nailed them with his Null Rays, but the newly neutral cyberninja had somehow managed to push all three Autobots out of the way with the help of his anti-grav mods on his back, sending all four of them sprawling out on the street. The humans immediately started screaming and running away and the noise reminded the medic too much of the war for his comfort. He pushed Bullhead's servo up from where it was thrown over his midsection and grunted as he got up. Prowl was already on his pedes, in a defensive position and those throwing stars of his drawn, standing in front of them in a protective manner. Ratchet engaged his electromagnets, even though he knew they can't do much against a seeker and Starscream, while famous for incompetently trying to overthrow Megatron, was infamous for being the most skilled seeker in the Decepticon armada. "It doesn't matter. Puny Autobots! Bring me the AllSpark or I will not be so merciful as to grant you a quick and relatively painless deactivation!"

"The AllSpark? We don't _have_ the AllSpark!" Bumblebee yelled up to the Decepticon when he scrambled to his own pedes with Bulkhead close behind. They both yelped when Starscream fired in their direction and Bumblebee engaged his stingers while Bulkhead transformed one of his servos into a wrecking ball. "We don't know where it is!"

Technically true. Prime said no one had access to the AllSpark and that it was damned well hidden when Ratchet had lost his composure over Megatron being so close to the source of all Cybertronian life. Ratchet was glad they were in the dark, for once, though he doubted Starscream will believe them. At least there was no way for the young bots to accidentally blurt anything of importance out.

"We're just space bridge repair bots," Bulkhead threw in his own two credits as Starscream dived for them, big, clawed servos reaching for the Autobots but he careened out of the way when Prowl threw a barrage of his throwing stars at him. The seeker turned his attention to the most combat qualified of them and Ratchet sighed in relief. Prowl had better chances at survival than any of them.

"Yeah! We only know that it's somewhere in the city and that only the Bossbot has access to it!"

_Oh, crud._

Prowl actually lost his battle composure to face-palm and got knocked over by the lunging seeker before said seeker turned to look at Bumblebee, his attention caught. "The city you say? Then I shall level this city with the ground until I find it!" And so he started firing all over the place, the humans running for their lives. They were definitely smarter than them, as the four Autobots stayed to keep fighting. Good thing was that whatever Prowl and Bumblebee went through last night, it had primed their systems and Bumblee's stingers had been upgraded to battle grade, which actually caused some damage. Not enough to knock his out of the sky and Prowl's ninja tactics can work only so many times.

And then Starscream got in a lucky shot. Bumblebee went down. Bulkhead got a faceful of turbo-thrusters when he tried to free him. Prowl jumped onto the seeker and tried to free Bumblebee, but was simply flung to the ground with a single elegant barrel roll. Ratchet managed to catch Starscream with his magnets and hold him in place, but he wasn't as young as he used to be and it was showing. He couldn't hold a seeker of Starscream's caliber for long and it left him exhausted by the time the Decepticon broke free. Through some stroke of luck or a miracle of Primus himself, Bumblebee was online and kicking, trying to wrench himself free but Starscream seemed oblivious to his pedes kicking at his chassis, the armor there far too strong for such an assault with no leverage behind it.

"We're going to die here, aren't we?" Bumblebee sent ironically over the comms and Ratchet grit his dentae. There was nothing they could do. These young bots were going to die on his watch and he was helpless to prevent it. In a last ditch effort, he hailed Drift's frequency, praying to the AllSpark that the older cyberninja hadn't changed it but he didn't get his hopes up when no answer came. They were left to their own devices.

"Bring me the AllSpark or this dimspark gets it!" The traitorous Decepticon SIC ordered, powering up his Null Rays and pointing it directly to Bumblebee's spark chamber as he presented to yellow speedster to his team. Prowl was struggling to get back to his pedes, a miracle all on its own, considering the height he had fallen from, and Bulkhead was looking around desperately for a way to help his best friend but obviously had nothing to go on. Ratchet knew that whatever they could throw at Starscream will reach its target too late for it to be any help to Bumblebee. Ratchet tried to think up a solution but nothing was coming to mind but desperate honesty.

"We don't _have_ it! We never did! We only accidentally wound up here!" The medic called, but was ignored as the weapon whined louder in preparation of firing. Bumblebee was visibly trembling in Starscream's hold despite the brave face he was trying to pull off.

"Offlining him or us won't get you any closer to obtaining the AllSpark," Prowl said, trying to reason with him but Starscream didn't care.

"Then I guess we'll just have to make sure. Say goodbye, Autobot. Maybe I can follow your spark to its final resting place."

"Bumblebee, no!" Bulkhead yelled desperately and Starscream laughed.

Ratchet closed his optics.

A shot resonated.


	14. Chapter 14

**Thief**

**Summary: Ancient cities and artifacts of great power don't just disappear on their own! The number of defections rises. A group of washouts and a warlord wind up on a world unlike any they've seen before and the leader is interesting enough. Peace. Equallity. And no factions, put your weapons down, Primus damn it!**

Bumblebee had expected pain, unbearable, horrible pain, to be the last thing he feels before his spark extinguished at the clawed hands of a Decepticon. He wanted to be brave, like the Elita Guard mech he'd always wanted to be, but his plating was rattling in fear and his spark was erratic in his chassis and he couldn't meet his doom head on, scared it will haunt him even in the Well. So he offlined his optics and dulled most of his senses so much that he didn't hear the approach of other thrusters in the air. The first and only clew he got was when the primed Null Ray was wrenched away from his chassis and the shot fired into open air as opposed into his sparkchamber.

"I don't think so." The yellow speedster's optics came only with a jerk when the familiar voice reached his audial sensors and every strut in Bblee's body turned into energon jelly when it fully registered that none other than Optimus Prime was his savior. One blue servo was pushing Starscream's free hand away while the other was holding and squeezing the servo holding Bumblebee by his throat tubing, the red and blue truck's optics blazing as he stared down the flabbergasted seeker that had obviously not expected to be interrupted. Meaning he hadn't done any sufficient reckon and had attacked the first Autobots he set his optics on without much forethought to possible repercussions.

Bumblebee had never before been so glad to see the mysterious Prime as he was now. "Bossbot!"

Blue optics never left surprised red ones, but Optimus' helm tilted just a little bit in the younger bot's direction. "Bumblebee, are you alright?"

The minibot gave a shaky smile, trying to call up as much bravery as he could manage with his fluttering spark beating and whirling so hard in his chassis. "I am now that you're here, Bossbot." After all, he was a guest and Optimus had made it very clear that all bots on Earth, guests or permanent citizens, were under his explicit protection and he hung out with Decepticons all the time, so Starscream had to be easy peasy for him to deal with.

Bumblebee's response, though, snapped Starscream out of his stupor and he glared at the red and blue bot. "Where the frag did _you_ come, Autobot?" He tried to move his servos but was stunned when he realized he was straining to just jerk them around a little and movement was more than limited.

"The AllSpark. And I'm not an Autobot." Optimus followed that statement up by kicking Starscream into a sensitive seam in his hip joint that made the seeker go 'Oof!' and involuntarily release the minibot from his hold. Bumblebee had just a klik of weightlessness and free-falling to yelp before he was scooped up by two sure blue servos and they jerked away from the Decepticon. There was another moment of weightlessness as gravity pulled them down together before the sound of thrusters finally registered and the falling stopped. Bumblebee looked up to see Optimus had a battle mask over his faceplates, leaving only his optics visible, and from his back perturbed the unmistakable shapes of _flight stabilizers_. Bumblee couldn't help but stare even as Optimus maneuvered them out of the way of an incoming blast with an ease of someone who had done this before, _plenty_ of times.

Autobots don't fly. That's a Decepticon thing. Autobots keep their pedes on the ground. Autobot's can't _fly_.

Optimus wasn't an Autobot.

"Come back here, Autobot scum, and fight like a real mech!" Starscream yelled as he pursued them and Bumblebee desperately wished he could be anywhere but here. Fixing space bridges didn't seem like such s bad gig in light of the last couple of weeks. The Decepticon was firing at them and Optimus was evading it, his mobility only minimally impaired by the bot he was saving and Bumblebee himself felt like he was either going to burst out in whoops or purge his tanks. He heard the sound of a comm link coming to life but knew it wasn't his so he craned his helm up when voices started speaking from Optimus' comm unit.

"Perimiter secured, Prime. Humans and civilians are at a safe distance. Decepticons and our own warframes have the red light for take off." Bumblebee recognized the voice to belong to that former Decepticon enforcer, Barricade, who always stopped him when he was speeding, Captain Fanzone's partner. He had always been there when Bumblebee and Sari might be up to some mischief to stop or monitor them with suspicious red optics, but besides taking his job so seriously, he was a cool mech. He even bought Bumblebee an oil cake once! Bumblebee still didn't understand that little cassette's, Franzy's, cackling but Barricade had been annoyed enough by it to throw the cassette into a trash can and leave him there for a trash bot to pick up and carry away. Bumblebee wondered why he hadn't arrived sooner. "I have the Autobots and Prowl. Minor injuries."

Bumblebee dared to look down - they were _way_ too high up for his liking and his tanks lurched - and found his friends were indeed with Barricade. Prowl looked ready for another round and had come to stand with the former Decepticon, whose servo had been transformed much like Bumblebee's did into stingers, only he had a plasma mini cannon and it was pointing up towards Starscream should he change tactic and attack the civilians under his protection. He kept a wary optic on the sky for any possible additional threats so he could warn Optimus if anyone came from a blind spot.

"I'm in position, Prime. Lead him above the city skyline." A slightly feminine voice Bumblebee had maybe heard once or twice said and he twitched at the thought of going even _higher_. He wasn't made for flight so he most definitely wasn't _meant_ for it! He had seen Optimus' alt mode. How can he _stand_ it to fly like this?! Like it's the most normal thing in the world!? How was it that he could fly _at all_!?

"Affirmative. ETA two kliks, altitude of two thousand feet." And then they were flying upwards, Starscream keeping even pace with them even as he continued shooting. Bumblebee forced himself to engaged his stingers and blindly shot down at the seeker and at least forcing him into evasive maneuvers, which prevented him from engaging sonic speed, which made better chances for them to survive this mess. "One klik."

"We're there." The mostly unfamiliar voice said, only to be replaced by a completely unfamiliar, equally feminine voice with an elegant, southern Iaconian drawl that Bumblebee _knew_ he had never heard before.

"You better hurry it up, Optimus, 'cause big, dark and broodingly handsome just got wind of Starscream's presence and it's taking me, Dominus and Soundwave all we've got to keep him out of the air. I've called Hook, but I'm not sure how much help he'll be. Ambulon's on his way to check the Autobots."

"Copy that, Ariel." Optimus said and switched comms. "You heard her, Slipstream, Sunstorm, Ramjet. Bring the rain." And Bumblebee _screamed_ like a frightened little sparkling when _they_ suddenly launched into sonic speed, surprising Starscream enough that he didn't get a chance to immediately pursue them. Which, apparently, created an opening for the three who Optimus had last spoken to, who turned out to be _more_ seekers, a femme and two mechs of a similar build to Starscream.

"With pleasure. Aim for the legs!" The femme, obviously the trine leader, commanded and the three started circling Starscream and shooting at his pedes, or rather, his thrusters. Bumblebee, though fascinated and awed by the aerial battle going on so close by, sighed in relief when he realized Optimus was steadily heading down towards street level and was making a bee line for his friends. He saw that Barricade and Prowl were joined by three other neutrals, only two of whom he recognized. He'd already met Drift and Ratchet had introduced them to Ambulon that day after the Dino Drive incident when the ex-Decepticon-ex-Autobot had come in to check on them to see if they needed any help. The third one he didn't recognize but he had on a strange pair of goggles and had a long ion gun aimed up at Starscream should the other seekers need help.

Bumblebee's knee joints collapsed under him when Optimus finally put him to the ground and took off again to see to the arrest of a falling Starscream. Judging by the loud noise a few streets away, Starscream had crashed into a building or two, but he won't be getting away any time soon, not with those three seekers and Optimus heading out to secure him. Bumblebee snapped his attention back to the new bot when he heard him disengage the big gun. The forest green grounder with a distinctly speedster built stored his gun away into subspace and lifted his goggles - Bumblebee was sure he had seen things like them in boot camp, meant for snipers, but neither he nor Bulkhead ever got to use them so he wasn't sure if it was really sniper goggles or ordinary goggles - revealing Autobot blue optics with amusement shinning in them. "So _you_ lot are Optimus' new troublemakers, huh? You don't seem like much. Got scared of old Screamer, ey?"

"Don't be rude," Drift admonished with a glare from where he was trying to get Ratchet to let him tend to him. Surprisingly enough, the medic snapped at every other sentence, which spoke volumes where the grumpy old ambulance is concerned. "They're young and this is their first encounter with a warframe. Only a _glitch_ wouldn't be scared. They still preformed admirably for their inexperience."

"You can stop with the pep talk. We know we suck." Bulkhead mumbled with a defeated voice, posture slumped as Ambulon checked on his faceplates. Thankfully, his optics seemed fine and he hadn't been exposed to the heat of Starscream's thrusters long enough to melt his face off, so that was a great big plus. "My entire _chassis_ aches."

"Hmph. You're lucky to even _have_ a chassis to ache after that tragedy. Screamer's pathetic on any day, but he's a decent combatant. Has to be, to continue being Megatron's second, especially with General Strika and ol' Shockwave around. Much more competent than 'im. The little kiss-aft's a coward the likes of which I've never seen." Barricade commented with a huff, keeping a careful optic on their surroundings in case Starscream somehow escapes Optimus and the others. Prowl was also standing guard, taunt like a string, having seemingly recovered from their skirmish with the Decepticon. Bumblebee himself felt relatively fine and any damage he had sustained was already well on its way to repairing itself without the care of a medic being needed - thank the AllSpark for that. He wasn't sure if he could go through Ratchet's examination right now - but whatever was helping his physical state along wasn't doing anything for his mental state of health. His plating was still rattling against his protoform and he _still_ felt like kissing the ground. He was shaken enough to actually feel like he'd keel over if he tried to stand right now.

"He ain't all that much. I can shoot him out of the air with _one_ shot," the stranger boasted and winked at the youngest present Autobot. "Name's Crosshairs, best sharp shooter in the Autobot army, decorated fifteen times in the Great War, before I was almost prosecuted for 'attempted assassination of Ultra Magnus', never mind that I was wrongly accused or that I offlined more Cons for the Elite Guard than any other bot, and I had to flee, nine hundred stellar cycles ago. Been here ever since."

"Is there _anyone_ here who ended up here of their own accord?" The yellow minibot asked incredulously. To him, it seemed impossible that all these mechs have somehow been saved or brought here through their space bridge by the AllSpark to be saved. "Or are you all strays picked up by Bossbot?"

Crosshairs arched an optic ridge at him and crossed his servos over his chestplates. "We're not all helpless bots who had no place to go. Some actively searched for the Republic to get away from the war. Others helped Optimus in a bind and he extended an invitation to them."

"And _some_ tried to _hunt him down for credits and fame_," Drift, Barricade and Ambulon all said together in one voice, a snarl rather obvious - though, they _are_ warframes and they _used_ to be Decepticons before they settled in Metroplex, so maybe that was normal? - while glaring at the sniper. Said green mech looked decidedly offended.

"I didn't even _know_ it was _Optimus_! Nine hundred stellar cycles ago, the Galactic Council only knew him as 'the Prime of the Independent Cybertronian Republic'! I would _never_ hunt _Optimus_! He saved my spark! I'm not _Lockdown_. I'm not a crazy, sadistic, masochist of a bastard that's _looking_ for punishment. Pit, Ariel nearly _offlined_ him with her poison and he _still_ came back to bother Prime. That's stupidity right there."

"I thought Lockdown's not allowed to make landfall," Ratchet grumbled and sent both Ambulon and Drift accusing looks. The cyberninja was finishing up the field-patch under the Autobot medic's watchful servo and ignored expertly the glare Ratchet was sending his way, smiling serenely like no Decepticon, former or not, that Bumblebee had ever seen before. Now, Bumblebee may be young but he wasn't nearly as naive or oblivious or dimwitted as people might think. He knew what a smitten bot looks like, his neighbors before he went to Autobootcamp were one of those sickeningly lovey-dovey types. And Drift looked mighty smitten with Ratchet, which only made Bumblebee conclude that Decepticons had no taste in _anything_, from color choices to frag buddies. But Ratchet was a lot less grumpy since they arrived here ... And _where_ had he _been_ last night when Bumblebee had snuck out after Prowl? Only _Bulkhead_ had been at the plant.

Crosshairs reset his optics at Ratchet and just stared at him for a moment. Then, he let out a low, impressed whistle. "Wow. You really _are_ as grumpy as Drift says." Barricade and Franzy, who had been quiet all the while, proceeded to cackle as Ratchet's optic ridge twitched and he looked thorn between lunging at Crosshairs and strangling the older cyberninja. "But, yeah, he's forbidden from setting one pede on Earth or going after anyone under the Republic's explicit protection. Why do you think that is? Arcee? She knows circuit-fu and got back at him the first time he came around to bother Optimus. Nah, Lockdown once tried to kidnap Optimus for the Quintessons and none of us were pleased. Hound, me and Drift had to get him out while Ariel held the fort, so to speak. And then Optimus had to get _us_ out before we entered Quintessonian space. He didn't learn that time and tried again, 'bout two hundred stellar cycles ago. He learned his lesson that time. When we settled here, he tried to go after one of our bots for the Cons and he then learned his lesson that he _can't_ attack _anyone_ from the Republic. To avoid temptation, he's not allowed to come down to Earth but can trade or restock on the Moon or anywhere else in the galaxy as long as he doesn't cause trouble."

"Who's Lockdown?" Bulkhead asked as he moved his jaw component around after Ambulon was finished and moved to his arm next, which had some minor damage. Bumblebee flinched when he saw Ratchet heading for him and looked around for an escape. He found it when he saw Optimus and the three seekers making their way towards them with a stasis cuffed Starscream along, a mouth clamp in place to keep him quiet.

"A troublesome bounty hunter we have to deal with every other stellar cycle, when he decides to frag us off," the femme seeker said, keeping a wary optic on the arrested Decepticon. "I called Dominus. This is more his department than anyone else's. Though we might want to take him straight to Sector 7 instead of the holding cells in HQ. Dominus told me Megatron wants revenge a bit more than we had originally thought. Soundwave's trying to calm him down but Hook can't make it. You might have to pay Skyfire a visit. Hook fears his spark might extinguish soon. Can't say _when_, exactly, but it's a matter of days now."

"It's a _tragedy_!" The brightest of the seekers cried out dramatically and yet he was completely sincere. "I can't imagine life without the great and glorious Skyfire in all his wisdom. The world will be a much bleaker place without his magnificence and the skies will lose his skill and elegance. There will be no other like the brave Skyfire."

"I'll go see him as soon as Starscream's put away, Slipstream. I trust I can leave that to you three while I go over the damage report with Elita and the humans." Optimus half stated, half asked and the seekers all gave him half-sparked salutes before firing up their thrusters. The cream colored and the orangish seeker took each of Starscream's elbows and followed after the femme when she took off, waving at the grounders before they were out of sight. Bumblebee stared after them for a moment before rounding up on Optimus, feeling _much_ better now that the Decepticon was gone.

"That was so _awesome_, Bossbot! I had no idea Autobots can _fly_! Is it a mod? Can I get one?"

Prime turned to look at him with a fairly blank stare in his optics. "I'm not an Autobot, there are _no_ factions here and no, it's not a mod. And _no_, you can't get one even if it _did_ exist. I can just imagine Soundwave and Blaster chewing me out for letting _you_ into our air space. You'd create too much of a commotion by being a flying Autobot."

"But _you're_ a flying Autobot!"

"Didn't he just say he _wasn't_?" Barricade said with a sneer before falling quiet, servo reaching up for his comm unit. He stayed silent for a few more seconds before turning to Prime. "Fanzone says the mayor is ready to see you. I can escort them."

Optimus nodded and turned to leave, but Bumblebee surprised them all, even himself, when he jumped on Prime's arm and held on tight. "Wait!" He yelled loud enough for Optimus' to flinch as the noise was too close to his sensitive audials for his comfort but he did stop, blue optics focusing on the speedster. Bumblebee found himself fumbling for words, the events of today making it hard to articulate what he wanted to say, but thankfully Optimus didn't rush him. He just patiently stood there and waited for Bumblebee to find the words he needed while everyone else stared at them. The yellow mech found himself starting to fidget nervously as he continued to be unable to say what he wanted but was surprised when Optimus' faceplates suddenly lit up with understanding, only for it to morph into acceptance and an almost miniature smile twitched and tugged at his lip plates. He still said nothing, but there was a different way to how he held himself now, a far more relaxed manner and his EM field extended to Bumblebee, calming him with its strong, comforting, welcoming pulses.

It's what Bumblebee needed for his glossa to loosen and for him to finally spit out the words he wanted.

"I want to stay."


	15. Chapter 15

**Thief**

**Summary: Ancient cities and artifacts of great power don't just disappear on their own! The number of defections rises. A group of washouts and a warlord wind up on a world unlike any they've seen before and the leader is interesting enough. Peace. Equallity. And no factions, put your weapons down, Primus damn it!**

Megatron glared death at his traitorous Second in Command through the one way black glass, watching as Ariel questioned the seeker in the questioning chamber and didn't know whether he had the capacity left to feel incredulous at the word 'questioning' replacing the word 'torture' or 'interrogation' as he had grown used to. Dominus had managed to physically hold him back from storming in and extinguishing Starscream's spark but it was the dark blue, red visored cassettedeck grounder, Soundwave, standing in front of the consul right beside the door of the observation room, that kept him from trying to do so again. There was something greatly unnerving about the young AllSpark creation that was one of Optimus' charges, something in the way he held himself or seemed to react to a mere _thought_, that put Megatron on edge. Sure, Megatron had no doubt that he could take Soundwave down, even offline him, with ease, even if Soundwave's cassettes helped him, but he fount it wasn't worth it. Starscream wasn't worth it being kicked out of Metroplex and out of Optimus' favor. So he did nothing more than glare at Starscream as he watched Ariel question him.

She had used electrical paint to change her appearance, now actually in the colors Megatron had imagined it would suit her, and she had even put on red contact optic lenses and put on some chip that gave her a Decepticon signal. Where she got the fangs, Megatron wasn't sure, but she definitely didn't resemble the mysterious, cheerful femme that had teased Optimus about his somewhat fanboy phase when they had been younger from just a few days ago. Her voice was bitter and she pushed all of the right buttons to get reactions out of Starscream. She would be a rather good interrogator, had she bothered to choose a side. She also wasn't afraid or reluctant to use her poison or organic spiders to terrify her 'victims'. In fact, she seemed to enjoy it. Yes, she would have made a _great_ Decepticon.

Starscream was talking within minutes.

It was the same old, same old. Megatron was kind of disappointed. Making Starscream his Second in Command had always been a political move before anything else. Where Starscream went, so did the rest of Vos and Megatron had _needed_ the swiftness and speed of seekers on _his_ side in the revolution and then in the war. Seekers hadn't been as oppressed as the rest of the warframes, having been isolated in Vos with the Airlord governing them without much contact with anyone other than the Senate, occasionally. When Ultra Magnus sanctioned the 'Decepticon' Registration Act, though, not even the Airlord could save them. Seekers were as much warframes as everyone else. And then the old Airlord had died and Winglord Starscream was to come into power. Megatron had seen an opportunity - Starscream was much more power hungry than his predecessor and would have _loved_ to rule all of Cybertron - and had made an alliance. Making Starscream his Second gave him an armada of seekers and they only became more loyal to the Decepticon Cause when the Autobots eventually shot Vos out of the sky. But Starscream had never been loyal. Even his trine-mates, Skywarp and Thundercracker, had been loyal to the Cause and to Megatron, while Starscream had always felt slighted by every word Megatron ever said to him and that was even before Starscream had started to annoy him. If Starscream had a concrete argument against his leadership or a way to lead his Decepticons better, Megatron would have enjoyed the challenge.

Instead, he had a blundering fool who only sought glory and power to satisfy his own greed for power. Megatron was by no means humble nor was he a saint or a perfect leader - despite what Tarn or Lugnut might say - but he was competent, he thought of his people and he tried to provide them with all they need to return to Cybertron victorious. Megatron had never led from inside a warship, behind troop lines. He had always been in front of them, the first to charge at the enemy. It earned him or reaffirmed the respect of his soldiers and their faith in him. They knew they could count on him to take on as many enemies as they were head on. They knew he fought for them and with them and they knew they could rely on him. He always kept his word. They knew he would one day lead them back to Cybertron.

He had been a soldier, a miner, a gladiator and now he was their leader. He had shared their fate from the start.

Starscream had been a pampered seeker until Megatron sought him out and offered to him something to fight for. He didn't know what it was like to starve, to fight for every last scrap of energon. The Decepticons would _never_ follow him. Because Starscream was a coward and he ran when he encountered a foe he could not defeat. He didn't have the bearings to challenge Megatron head on and had instead resorted to assassination. Good tactical thinking, but cowardly none the less. Tactics without courage were _meaningless_. No self respecting frontliner would follow a leader who hadn't even _earned_ his leadership.

Optimus, who was almost half of Starscream's size, would make a _far_ better leader of Decepticons, should anything happen to Megatron.

Then again, the little mech already _was_. Almost each warframe that was here, in Metroplex, today had once been a loyal Decepticon, even the defectors who sought a safe haven here from the DJD. Optimus had earned their respect and their trust. He had a _DJD_ member as his Head of Security! He may not be able to match them in brute strength, but he was as brave as any of his soldiers had ever been. Megatron had seen it _plenty _of times since he'd arrived here. Pit, the _first _thing he saw when he woke up was Optimus standing up to him to protect Sari. Megatron knew mechanisms twice Optimus side and weight who had nearly leaked themselves when they had been in a similar situation as the pretty grounder.

He was broken out of his musings when said mech entered the questioning chamber, a tired look on his faceplates that Megatron hadn't seen so far. Ariel turned to look at him with what looked like a teasing remark on her glossa but she stopped when she saw his haggard appearance. "Rough day?"

"Bumblebee was at the Basilica last night," was all he said and Soundwave, Dominus and Ariel stiffened at once. Starscream was watching with interest, as confused as Megatron was about what was so bad about that. Then again, the Primal Basilica in Iacon had been robbed at night, too. Perhaps that is where they kept the AllSpark? No, that was too obvious. Optimus was clever. He'd never leave the AllSpark in a place where anyone could just walk in and take it as they please. The Basilica was open for all. Megatron had been there. There was no sign of the AllSpark anywhere. "He says he wants to stay."

"Isn't that a good thing?" The femme asked, completely ignoring what could easily be classified as a terrorist to their city and their chosen planet and instead focusing on her friend and leader. "I mean, that's one more spark saved from that mes they call a ceasefire but is actually just a muted continuation of the war."

"Normally, yes," the mech replied as he crossed his servos over his chassis and leaned against the wall besides the door. "But I can't just let him stay just like that. I want to, don't get me wrong. You know this is a safe haven for anyone who seeks it. But Bumblebee doesn't understand that. He sees Sunny and Sides and thinks he can race whenever he wants and wreck havoc while doing it, unintentionally or not. He sees the incident at Dino Drive as an _adventure _rather than _new life being sparked_ right in front of his optics. He sees me fighting Starscream and decides this is 'a better gig' than fixing space bridges, thinks we're all about _excitement_. He sees all the warbuilds here and still thinks _Decepticons_, thinks they're _domesticated_, as though Autobots have managed to tame their enemies, despite me telling him numerous times that there are no factions here."

"You think he sounds a little too close to functionist ideals and Autobot propaganda to be comfortable about it," Ariel didn't pose it a a question, obviously seeing the same danger in such a way of thinking as Megatron caught on to immediately. And he wans't surprised Optimus had seen it, too. That yellow one probably had no idea that his views were typical to the darkest times of Cybertron's history, possibly because he is misinformed - it is called the Golden Age, despite the atrocities committed during it - or he doesn't even know about the roots of current Autobot propaganda. That he thought clam and civil warframes meant they had somehow bowed their helms to grounders showed that his way of thinking was probably deeply rooted in his processor that Autobots are somehow above Decepticons.

Megatron had not heard of such convictions since the time of his revolution.

"I think he can be shown how he's wrong in that way of thinking and it's quite possible Ratchet will explain it to him, but what really concerns me is the implications behind his conviction." He pauses, optics going distant, completely disregarding that the femme had been questioning their attacker, a warbuild that had been happy enough to blast and destroy several buildings. Dominus had told Megatron the damage after he had given a report to Ariel, who is apparently mostly in charge of such things. "They're doing it again, aren't they? They're choking their citizens and this time, it's people they register as their own, fellow _Autobots_. They don't have any propaganda to hide behind about them being violent or dangerous. All groundframes consume the same amount of energon, so they can't explain it away as saving resources, like they tried in the past. They're killing _my people_ and I can't do _anything _to stop it."

Megatron stared in shock as the mech wound his servos around himself tighter while Ariel was at hi side in a nanosecond, a hand resting on his upper arm. "We knew from the start that we can't save _everyone_, Optimus. We had to focus on the ones willing to be saved, first. You said it yourself plenty of times. Metroplex and the Republic is our last chance." He saw the femme flick her four optics down to the red chassis and hesitate when she looked back up at the little Prime. "Is it acting up again? Are you in pain?"

"No. If anything, it's warm and comforting." While Starscream and Megatron were completely lost as to what they were talking about, Soundwave and Agent 113 seemed to know perfectly well and understood it, judging by their grim expressions and tightly pressed EM fields. "I know what we're doing is right, it just doesn't feel like it's enough. Not by a long shot."

Ariel shrugged and took a step back, looking casual. "We have a responsibility to those who want to be saved, as you always say. You can't save someone who won't let you." She paused, gouging his expression. "What will you do regarding Bumblebee?"

"I won't turn him away, if that's what you are asking. We'll give him a week long probation period to see if he can fit in and to get rid of those dangerous ideals. If he can't integrate into our way of life, the Orion will be ready by then to take the Autobots off planet if that is what they wish. My only condolences is that Ratchet seemed horrified by what Bumblebee was saying and that neither Prowl nor Bulkhead had any idea about what he was talking about. The propaganda still hasn't reached the energon farms, though how long that will remain the case is a worrisome question. If they continue like this, it really is likely that we will be the last of our race and that we will return to a desolate Cybertron."

Megatron shivered at the very idea. Judging by the lack of surprise on the two mechs in the observation room with him, this, too, seemed to be a widely spread opinion amongst the Republic mecha. He shivered again as it crossed his processor that it might be true. Their war hasn't really stopped, despite what the rest of the universe seems to think. it has only toned down to occasional, much smaller conflicts instead of the attention-catching full blown out battles. This was the only place a Cybertronian had true peace, as even colonies and secondary Cybertronian worlds were involved this way or that. If not in downright fights, then by providing resources for the war effort.

"Maybe it's for the best? At least all that bad energon will be washed out by then."

Optimus shook his helm at her suggestion, arms relaxing a little around his chassis. "They're _still _my people. I wish I had a way to stop this stupid war but that's not something we should talk about now." Blue optics slid over to the perplexed Starscream and Ariel looked over her shoulderstrut and nodded, the two friends taking a seat each across from the Decepticon before Megatron could contemplate or question Optimus calling them all 'his people' like that. "What do you want, Starscream? Your little stunt today has definitely robbed you of any asylum you might try to plead for. If anything, I should throw you into Sector 7 and forget you even exist. You almost killed fifty people, four Cybertronians and you managed to topple two buildings while seven others aren't stable anymore and need to be partially reconstructed."

It was quite possibly not so bad only thanks to the Constructicons that lived here, Megatron was sure. From their argument with that human that he had seen the first day upon waking up on this strange planet, he knew Mix and Scrap were helping build Detroit and they were very throughout in their work. Possibly the only ones better at their job than them were the original Constructicons - Hook and his brothers, Scrapper, Mixmaster, Scavenger, Long Haul and Bonecrusher, his gestalt team that formed Devastator, the only Constructicons before the war and before that unit expanded by twelve more mechs, including Mix and Scrap who eerily resembled Mixmaster and Scavenger, save for their coloring; those two were a helmache one a _good _day - and it is because of them that so little damage was actually done. The normal architectural structure of this planet would not have fared so well.

"Given, though, that your presence might cause us some trouble amongst some of our guests or permanent citizens, I am inclined to let you go in exchange for a monetary punishment. You can repay the humans by paying for the reconstruction of what you've destroyed and I can get rid of you as soon as possible and avoid having to fix even more damage. Quite frankly, nothing would make me happier than to just throw you through our space bridge and never see you again. Your reputation precedes you, Commander Starscream. Keeping you here is more trouble than it's worth-"

"Not that it's _worth _anything," grumbled Dominus from Megatron's side and Megatron was inclined to agree. Starscream delights in causing chaos that might in some way further his own goals or help him in some manner. Metroplex didn't need that. Metroplex was a place of content. Starscream didn't belong, in any capacity.

"And it's actually for your own good, as well. There are more bots here who'd be quite happy to give you a piece of their processor for all the slag you've down over the stellar cycles."

"It would be quite counterproductive for us to reintroduce you to them," Ariel picked up, leaning her elbows on the table and her chin on his intertwined digits. "We've worked hard for our right to peace and you just don't belong in the picture. So why don't you be nice and just agree to leave?" She suggested in a very dangerous and seductive sounding purr which made Megatron's sensory net prickle and battle protocols blare an unsure warning.

"What were you even doing here in the first place?" Optimus asked, servos crossed, leaning back in his chair casually. Megatron was struck with how easily the two grounders complimented each other and their roles. Optimus was the stern but kind one that reasoned everything with logic while Ariel was the casual but wicked one that hinted at disaster if the one on the receiving end didn't listen to her partner. There was no hesitation between them. Pit, Megatron would bet his Fusion Cannon that that first conversation had been as much of a planned performance as this easy dynamic they were showing for Starscream.

This wasn't the usual good cop, bad cop routine. This wans't any of those usual interrogation and questioning routines. This was two Amica Endura working towards the same goal with an efficiency that quite frankly impressed and even scared him a little. Ariel on her own was a magnificent intel gatherer, but between the two of them ...

Starscream was lost to the dynamic and actually did the most stupid thing to do when faced with an enemy interrogator/questioner. He answered. "I knew the Autobots had the AllSpark, so I followed after them! Took me a while to get to your _insignificant _planet from the ridges of your _pathetic _little galaxy, but I followed the beacon signal and found this _measly _city filled with _weakling _organics and those four Autobugs. You see, _I_ am the supreme leader of the Decepticons now so it is my _destiny _to bring us victory and Cybertron by retrieving the AllSpark from Autobot clutches, something _Megatron _never managed to do. You will pay for denying me-"

Megatron had had enough, reached over to Soundwave's counsel and activated the speakers, speaking into the microphone. "Consider yourself at the top of the List, _Starscream_." Tarn will even be eager to finally go after him. The tank had never liked the seeker.

He watched with satisfaction as his former Second in Command stiffened upon recognizing his voice. Megatorn had often been told he had a very pleasing voice and had used it to his advantage in any situations, from rallying crowds and acquiring followers to luring pretty bots into his berth. He was told he could sound both dangerous and incredibly seductive when he growled and hissed and it never failed to have a reaction. Even Optimus and Ariel, who were no doubt informed by Soundwave what he was doing, couldn't completely repress the shudder that ran through their plating. Starscream, though, looked ready to spring a leak as he realized his plan had failed and that Megatron still functioned. But he was quick to round up on the two groundframes and tried to loom over them even restrained as he was by the stasis cuffs and unable to get up from his chair.

"So you are nothing more than a cover for Decepticon operations. And here I thought-" He was cut off when Ariel suddenly surged forwards and those strange spider-legs on her shoulderstruts snapped outwards, sinking into each of Starscream's shoulders and glowing green for a second before she pulled back just as Starscream slumped forwards, hitting his faceplates into the table, in deep stasis.

"No one cares what you thought," she grumbled and took off the fake Decepticon brand from her chest to look at Optimus, all bright colors again, save for the red of her optics. "You got what you needed?"

Optimus nodded but he didn't look the least bit pleased. "The beacon must be coming from the Orion, which means that, if Starscream picked it up, so did the Elite Guard and ships like that go under 'urgent' no matter the crew. I'm afraid we'll be getting more company in a matter of days."

The femme nodded, the two already moving towards the door when it opened and two mechs came in to carry Starscream out. "I'm calling Tumbler to shut it off. With any luck, it will at least take them a day or so to get the trigonometry again and to find Detroit and Metroplex once they get to Earth."

"No," Optimus shot down even as they stepped aside so the seeker could be carried out. Ariel looked at him strange and Optimus met her gaze with a steely one of his own. "Ratchet will do it."

"Are you insane?!" The yellow femme hissed at him, getting into his faceplates. "Their ship is still in the ship yard and the ship yard is off limits for a _reason_! Think of the damage they could do if they decided to attack!"

"Ratchet is the mentor. I promised him the Orion will be returned to him in the same state, besides the damage, a sit had been when they arrived." The young mech easily countered calmly, to the femme's ire. Ariel seemed to realize that they couldn't break the promise nor would Optimus budge on this, so she crossed her servos aggressively and glared at him with all four of her optics. It looked a lot more menacing now that they were red.

"You're not going alone."

"Of course not. I'll take Crosshairs, Prowl and-"

"And _me_," the femme stated, almost ordered, daring her Amica Endura to argue. Megatron was aware only he seemed interested in the outcome. Dominus and Soundwave seemed to already know how this was going to end. Though they didn't really look all that pleased with the until recently Autobot joining on their side and replacing another of the Republic's longer occupants.

"And _Megatron_," Optimus finished and that, if anything, had everyone gaping at the red, blue and silver mech, including the warlord in question. Optimus looked over to the one way glass and met Megatorn's optics unerringly, as though he could _see _him. He arched an optic ridge at him. Ariel was looking in vaguely the same direction as he friend, still shocked, but didn't have Optimus seeming ability to see through the mirror. Dominus Ambus gapped at him like Megatron had never seen him gap before and Soundwave, though he didn't have a mouth, had his visor overly bright in astonishment as he, too, stared at Megatron.

He couldn't look away from those blue optics and he shivered.

He felt like Optimus Prime could see him.

What a disconcerting thought.


	16. Chapter 16

**Thief**

**Summary: Ancient cities and artifacts of great power don't just disappear on their own! The number of defections rises. A group of washouts and a warlord wind up on a world unlike any they've seen before and the leader is interesting enough. Peace. Equallity. And no factions, put your weapons down, Primus damn it!**

In all the time they had stayed here, neither Megatorn nor the new Autobots had ever caught a glimpse of a space port or a ship yard and yet they had been informed one existed and was accessible only to mechs who worked there, the captains of the ships and some other mechs involved with ships, as long as they were a permanent member of the Independent Cybertronian Republic of Earth. They had all explored both Detroit and Metroplex and had never even caught a hint of a glimpse of it.

And now they understood why as they descended with an elevator bellow Metroplex, into the deep waters underneath the city. They watched out of the glass shaft with stunned fascination and awe, gawking at the giant glass dome that housed one of the most amazing ship yards slash space ports any of them had ever seen in their long or short lives, respectively. The familiar form of the Orion was far from the biggest or only recognizable ship in the dome, some of them enormous Decepticon warships with enough fire power to blow up planets, others smaller Autobot ships that had been used for infiltrating ranks unnoticed in the war, or ships from various colonies and other origins that they must have bought from merchants from all over the universe either to escape their war or to start their own business.

There were giant clusters of glowing crystals being used as lanterns all around the dome and it was so bright that the visiting mechs were surprised that the glow didn't show on the surface, if not during the day then surely at night! Then again, that was probably why the dome was directly under Metroplex, so the city would hide the glow. They could see bots of all shapes and sizes as they worked contentedly at ships, repairs and maintenance or just simple diagnostics and checkups. Unlike Ratchet's worst fears, no one seemed haggard or displeased with their station. In fact, when the doors of the elevator opened to let them into the dome, they were all surprised to hear the working mechs singing merry tunes at the tops of their voices, relying on comms to receive assignments or instructions, some of them even gathered in quartets and quintets, servos around each other and dancing or swaying to the songs they sang.

Both groundframes and warbuilds worked in the ship yard, helping each other reach places the other couldn't, preforming tasks that might be easier for the other, generally just working together in a show of harmony and unity that had Megatron and Ratchet reseting their optics every time a small, colorful grounder would trust a big, darkly colored warframe to lift an entire fragging ship and not drop it on him while he crawled under it to check the circuits there. Neither of them had been alive when such a thing might have been a normal occurrence, despite the number of vorns they'd both gathered in their long lifetimes. They had only ever known a split and divided society, be it by casts or functionism.

The very embodiment of all that Metroplex stood for was here, where mechs worked and didn't appear to be subdued or starving.

Of course, Megatron - as a way of ensuring he doesn't try to stage any unneeded uprisings with the warframes living on Earth - and Prowl - as a new Republic citizen - have seen other work sites, not counting the mechs that work together with humans in cities or mechs that own shops, work in the hospital or the Archives or the care center. They had seen the mines and Megatron had been surprised by the jolly and relaxed manner in which the workers behaved. They had greeted Optimus with nothing but respect and weren't only warframes, to his unmeasurable relief. He had discretely snuck back into the mines later, once, to talk with them and found out that they worked eight Earth hours a day, had sufficient fuel provided for them during the work and that they received a fair pay on top of them occasionally being allowed to take a bit of the materials they excavated as long as they ask or notify someone first. Prowl, on the other hand, had visited the energon farms deep underground and up on the Moon as soon as he was registered as a new citizen, a tour conducted by Optimus himself. The atmosphere there had been just as easy going as it was here, with song and laughter and jokes being exchanged in easy camaraderie as the warframes and civilians worked. Everyone had stopped to greet Optimus when they saw him, proud grins on their dermas as they presented to him the rather enormous clutch of energon crystals they had managed to cultivate as well as the normal, smaller ones. Prowl had been gifted with one before they left and he had shown it to Bulkhead, who had been stunned at the size of it as nothing on Cybertron had ever grown that big. He had nearly flat-lined when Prowl showed him the holopic of the one that had caused such pride and delight amongst the workers.

Just as in the mines and on the fields, just as in Metroplex in general, everyone paused in what they were doing to greet Optimus, flanked by Prowl and Ariel, Sari sitting on his shoulder and Crosshairs keeping an optic on the visiting group. Not that they would have been in any state to cause problems, as they were too stunned staring at the ship yard. Optimus easily led them to where the Orion was parked, greeting everyone with smiles and placing a comforting servo on Prowl's shoulderstrut when the cyberninja tensed when optics landed on him. He was still too new for them to trust him, but he had been seen at the conclave in the Basilica and they knew it was official now. Now, it was more curiosity than anything that prompted glances, especially since he was seen with two of Optimus closest while they escorted the visitors to one of the ships they were working on.

Strongarm and Smokescreen awaited at parade rest and gave a quick salute to Optimus when he and the group came closer. Optimus had tried to talk them out of such behavior, but Metroplex, despite not being a military base, was mostly military oriented in some of their most basic interaction conducts, seeing as everybot that had arrived here was a soldier first. Strongarm and Smokescreen grew up in that environment and they took pride in saluting their Prime. Optimus returned their salute with a perfect Academy bot one in return just to see the grins on their faces before they all relaxed and got down to business.

"Thankfully, most of the beacon signal was blocked by the glass and all that water overhead, but it was still strong enough to reach the orbit, which means we will, indeed, unfortunately be having visitors," Strongarm reported, eying the group behind Optimus in suspicion. Smokescreen was a lot more subtle at keeping his optic on Megatron and the warlord didn't even notice, observing Optimus in his element as he conversed with his protégés. The femme turned her full attention back to Optimus as she pulled out a datapad and handed it to him. "I have Moon Base 1 scanning for any incoming ships but my recommendation is that we shut down that beacon _immediately_. It will buy us time."

"I'm not sure the big bots back home will be bothered much to come after a crew of space bridge technicians," Bulkhead threw in, rubbing his helm as all attention turned to him. "I mean, it's not like we're anybot important."

"Everybot is important. No spark is wasted," Optimus immediately replied, looking over the datapad and nodding to Strongarm, subspacing the datapad when he was done. "They will come, that much is certain. They wouldn't let a ship like the Orion fall into Decepticon or, Primus forbid, _Quintesson_ servos. The question whether they'd arrive to save the bots on said ship is a question I'd rather not contemplate as I _just_ had one of Swerve's crazy concoctions and I'd rather like for it to stay in my tanks. Is the space bridge secure?"

"I checked with Soundwave and Blaster," Smokescreen answered this time, still keeping an optic on Megatron. The Decepticon noticed it this time and arched an optic ridge at him. Smokescreen smiled a not so genuine smile while continuing his report, never once breaking optic contact. Optimus' protégés were so strange and Megatron wasn't the only one with that thought. Needless to say, even Ariel and Crosshairs were impressed with the young bot's bearings to stare down the Slagmaker himself. Then again, he _was_ rather used to dealing with warframes. Megatron was just another warframe, even if he was the Decepticon leader. "We had only one transwarp planned for today and Steeljaw and his crew decided they'd rather stay a day longer in Metroplex than risk us opening up the channel and letting an Elite Guard ship get through. The bridge should still function perfectly if the AllSpark decides to interfere, but no stray travelers will come through without explicit permission from Soundwave. Blaster reports that he has managed to safely mask our communication network, so we are still very much in touch with all our bots."

"I've spoken with dad," Sari said when Smokescreen finished. "He says the satellites are ready to come online in a few hours to dampen our signals."

"Signal dampeners won't do slag against some ship scanners. Not with how many bots are on this planet," Ratchet huffed, crossing his servos impatiently, wanting to be back on his ship to check it over to see if Optimus had indeed kept his word.

"No, but it will give us some time to prepare," Prime said and sighed, turning to his assembled guests. "I trust you won't use our generosity and sign of good faith to start blasting your way through. Because, if that's the case, be _warned_ that we _are_ prepared for such situations. You'll be shot down before you can get to the surface."

Ratchet looked surprised at the notion and Bumblebee, who was still not sure why he was being put on hold to join the community, was highly offended. Bulkhead just nodded in understanding. "Why would we want to do that?" The medic asked incredulously, also a bit offended. They weren't _Decepticons_ to jump at every opportunity to stab someone in the back plates. "I seriously doubt whatever secrets you're keeping will be used against the Autobots and you've more than helped us in our time of need. My conscience is clean." And he proceeded to almost jump out of his plating when Drift landed beside him from seemingly out of nowhere, giving the startled medic a big smooch right on the lip plates. Megatron, who had activated his Fusion Cannon and leveled it at the presumed threat only to be stopped from firing by Optimus, could only stare at one of his deadliest soldiers kissing an Autobot medic within an inch of his function, stunned. Optimus simply lowered his cannon and awkwardly patted the servo it was attached to, ignoring Crosshairs' hooting and Ariel's whistling, both cheering the cyberninja on. The Autobots looked stunned while Optimus' two protégés had turned away with heated faceplates, embarrassed by the display.

Drift pulled away when he was satisfied and grinned at the dazed and utterly _stunned_ red and blue bot in his arms, completely ignoring the catcalls from his colleagues. "Think you might bend the Autobot code enough to stay?"

"Hey! If _I_ can't stay, why would _Docbot_ be _asked_ to stay?!" Bumblebee, as always, was the first one to recover from the shock of the moment and marched right up to the former Decepticon, glaring into his red optics with his blue ones. Drift gave him a flat stare in return and an even flatter response.

"There are no factions here and functionist were _never_ appreciated. You can take your Autobot superiority complex and propaganda and shove it right up your tailpipe."

The yellow minibot stared at him for a long moment before asking the question Optimus had been suspecting will eventually be asked. "What's a 'functionist'?"

"Funcionism was a social idea and society structure that preached that a bot's fate was decided by his frame. The regime restricted us far worse than the caste system, which is saying something, given that _that_ was bad enough. It was in power until shortly before Ultra Magnus came to power." Ratchet explained, only to have both Decepticons snort in disgust.

"That's a very scaled down and not nearly detailed enough description of that living Pit hole," Megatron growled, fists clenched, making Optimus focus on him to make sure he doesn't lash out in some manner. "You're not going to mention how, in peace time, a warframe had no function? How we were used in mines and some of us never saw the light of Haden or the stars until my revolution? How when we were no longer capable for labor, due to lack of proper health care, we were dismantled or melted for parts while we still _functioned_? How all flightframes were put in _flightlocks_ so that we don't use up more fuel by flying, never mind that lack of such exercise to our most basic systems brought out aggressiveness in us for which they'd then blame and condemn us for? How we were pitted against each other and various _disgusting_ creatures in the Gladiatorial Arenas in Kaon and Tarn and various other underground pits for upper class mecha's _entertainment_? How we had no _rights_? How the _Autobots_ were _suffocating_ our entire planet? Are you not going to mention _any_ of that, _Autobot_?"

"The Registration Act would have been the death of us. We could barely earn enough credits for a day's energon consumption, with _two_ jobs." Drift picked up when Megatron got too worked up to speak anymore without roaring like a caged beast. "If registered, we'd slowly die of hunger. If registered, we couldn't buy more than a single cube even if we _did_ have the credits for more. Ultra Magnus had hoped that the Registration Act would give warframes some leeway with the Senate ... "

"But they just abused it until it was too much," Optimus finished for them both, surprising Megatron when a smaller blue servo boldly grabbed hold of his much bigger, black one. "I read about the revolution. Your fight started against the functionist and with the death of Zeta Prime, Ultra Magnus came into power and you had waited, _hoped_ no doubt, for him to help you. When he didn't, war was your only way out." He looked warily between the two warframes and the grounders around them, keeping a tight hold on Megatron's servo so he wouldn't aim at anyone with his deadly weapon again. "I don't think this is a good time _or_ place to discuss the war. We need to shut down that beacon and if a fight breaks out here, you'll wreck our very expensive ship yard that I'd rather not be forced to fix, thanks. So if we can move on-"

"I don't support that!" Bumblebee yelled, appalled to finally understand why so many bots had been looking at him with the stink eye for the past couple of days. Or pretty much since he arrived here. "I'm not a functionist! That's _disgusting_! How can anybot treat someone like that!?"

"We're not saying _you_ are a functionist, just that your way of thinking is heavily influenced by Autobot propaganda that's bordering on functionism these days, it would seem," Ariel said with a huff, servos on her hips. "If you were a _true_ functionist, it's _very_ likely you'd never have stayed here for longer than you needed for recovery and Hound had cleared you out on the first day."

"Hook would have thrown them out himself," mused Crosshairs, watching the interactions with interest before grinning teasingly at Drift. "You gonna let the medibot go so he can do this or are we gonna wait for the Elite Guard here?"

That had Ratchet pushing himself out of a pouting Drift's arms and taking several steps away from him, not daring to meet anyone's optics. Smokescreen gestured for him to follow him up the ramp and the red and white ambulance followed, trailed by the rest of the gathered group, Sari floating in ahead of everyone to inspect the ship in curiosity, having never seen a ship like it before, even with the strange variety of ships docked in the dome. Strongarm and Ariel shared a look when they noticed Optimus still keeping a hold of Megatron's servo and Crosshairs, the aft, cleared his vocalizer pointedly, getting Optimus' attention and making him jerk his hand back. Confused, Megatron looked down at the smaller mech but Optimus rushed past him, talking to Sari about something and ignoring the wicked grins on Ariel's and Crosshairs' faceplates while Strongarm paused to give Megatron a disapproving look before going after her mentor, much to his confusion. He and a still pouting Drift brought up the rear, much to Ratchet's obvious discomfort at having _Megatron_ on his ship. He didn't comment, thankfully, and there was no further incident as they all piled up into the command bridge and watched as Ratchet manually turned off the beacon.

Strongarm touched her comm unit, checked it with Soundwave and Blaster before nodding and handing Optimus a short form to fill out. She gave a swift salute and marched right off the ship with purpose in her steps like an administrator that she was. Smokescreen stayed just long enough to check the control panel himself before following the femme's footsteps and leaving. Crosshairs and Ariel made no move to leave Optimus all alone with their visitors and the two cyberninjas. Sari, though, seemed eager to explore the ship and Bumblebee and Bulkhead were eager to be her guides, forcing Prowl to go after them to endure they don't break something, inside _or_ outside the ship. Drift seemed content to just stare at the grumpy old medic, who grew more fidgety the longer Megatron stayed on the ship. Sighing, said warlord turned to leave, catching Optimus' optic as he did so.

"I wish to speak to Starscream in person, if you can arrange it. You may monitor the conversation if you fear I will break our agreement." He watched as Optimus thought about it and nodded at Crosshairs, who scowled up at the Decepticon. The forest green mech gestured for him to follow and he did, stealing one last glance at the tense room behind him before deciding to let civilianframes deal with their problems however they wished.

That left Ratchet alone with three neutrals, one that made him nervous with her four optics and two he - through some trip of insanity that his logic computer was going through - somehow trusted not to harm him, even though one was a former Deceoticon and the other _very_ protective of the world his ship had practically invited the Elite Guard to. But none of them showed any signs of aggression, which eased Ratchet's spark and actually allowed him to speak. Something all three had apparently been expecting, as none of them had moved after the others to leave. The medic briefly wondered whether he should wait for Sari to return, since he remembered Optimus' comment from that first day, but decided it was really _Optimus_ he needed to talk to.

"I thought about your offer," he started off with, earning himself two frowns from the other two neutrals, although Drift might have an idea at what he was aiming at. The femme didn't seem to be aware of that, though, which actually made the decision for him, since Optimus _clearly_ hadn't been freely talking about the Orion's secret like he could have, even with his own closest and most trusted.

The red and blue bot in question was watching him with knowing and understanding optics, stance casual, no triumphant or smug glint on his face. "You want to bring him back online." It wasn't a question. It shouldn't be. Ratchet had a chance to bring back his old friend from what might as well be the dead and he'd be a fool to turn it down. If Optimus had offered it, he can do it without endangering anyone and he obviously trusted Ratchet's word not to cause harm. Ratchet tried not to think about the other implication behind that confidence and trust, the dark, frightening possibility of Metroplex being in possession of a weapon powerful enough to shoot a ship the likes of Orion out of the sky.

The time for doubts was over. Whether they ended up staying or going, Ratchet won't pass up this opportunity to get his friend back.

"I want to bring him back online."

May rust take his gears if he is damned.

He doesn't regret it.


	17. Chapter 17

**Thief**

**Summary: Ancient cities and artifacts of great power don't just disappear on their own! The number of defections rises. A group of washouts and a warlord wind up on a world unlike any they've seen before and the leader is interesting enough. Peace. Equallity. And no factions, put your weapons down, Primus damn it!**

"Hello, Starscream," said seeker looked up at the greeting, glaring despite the turmoil in his EM field at the larger mech, who only watched him impassively from the other side of the force field that kept him i side his cell. "I trust you find your accommodations to your liking?"

"Go jump into a black hole, Megatron! I refuse to cower before you!" Even though he felt as far from that brave as he ever did when he incurred Megatron's rage, Starscream will rather offline first than swallow his pride. He was like a cornered animal, barking and snarling but not daring to leave his corner and it disgusted him. He was the mighty Starscream, the rightful leader of the Decepticons! Megatron's time was up.

It scared him to think the gray mech had survived that explosion.

Starscream had been trying to offline Megatron - subtly, of course - for the past several million stellar cycles. In fact, almost as soon as he had joined the Decepticons, the seeker had been trying to wrestle power from Megatron and take over as the Supreme Commander of all warframe armies. But Megatron was like this planet's ugly insect - a cockroach, he believed it was called - and kept coming back like a bad rust infection. Starscream had quite literally tried to throw him into a _black hole_, back during the war, and the slagger had managed to come back while crippling the Autobot ship that had been trying to capture him enough for _it_ to end up in the black hole and he returned hailed as a hero. Starscream will never understand what made millions of mechs follow a lowly miner turned gladiator into battle when they could have followed _him_, the Airlord of Vos, the great and glorious Starscream, but it was the status of things and it vexed him to no bounds. _He_ would be a _much_ better leader than _Megatron_. And yet he only remained Secind in Command.

When the fool had prepared to rush off to attack the Autobot ship that showed an energy reading that matched with the AllSpark, Starscream had capitalized an opportunity and it had did his spark good to watch the explosion. Only now he learns that Megatron is not only perfectly well but seems to have made himself comfortable in what he had thought to be the fictional Independent Cybertronian Republic and Starscream was its prisoner due to attacking the fleshlings and those four Autobots. Three _seekers_ threw him to the cyberwolves! _Seekers_! _His_ people! No seeker had ever taken someone else's side over the Airlord's! And a _grounder_, at that! That femme, Slipstream, had taken great delight in telling him to go sit on a missal and rotate and her two trine-mates frankly disturbed him.

But even more disturbing had been that grounder who could _fly_. Starscream had seen a lot of different flightframes in his life and not even tripplechangers like that schizophrenic, Blitzwing, had _wheels_ visible in his root mode, mostly because _flightframes_ are _warframes_. Not to mention that the red, blue and silver grounder had no other aerodynamically adjusted root mode features. He was most _definitely_ a grounder and yet he could _fly_. Even if for only a very short while, he had _out-flown_ a _seeker_. And not just _any_ seeker, but _Starscream_! _Him_! The mighty Airlord of Vos! That was _unacceptable_! That was _impossible_! And yet it had happened. And then that filthy _groundpounder_ had the bearings to order for him to be _arrested_!

The interrogation he had been expecting went ... completely unexpectedly. In fact, he had been surprised to see a Decepticon brand on the femme and had wondered if this was indeed some secret outpost of Megatron's that only he and Strika or that insufferable Shockwave knew about. Starscream wouldn't be at all surprised that Megatron would keep something like that from his magnificent, loyal Second in Command, but then the little grounder from earlier had turned up and her Decepticon-like behavior vanished and the two teamed up against him. Finding out that Megatron was listening to the interrogation - that he was _alive_, slag him! - had only further convinced him that this was all somehow Megatron's operation and yet ...

"This place is run by _Minicons_," he said with disgust as he watched one of the yellow opticked, small Cybertronians pass them by, heading towards the cell of that raving maniac, Dirtboss or something. Starscream didn't feel all that comfortable knowing he was the only other prisoner in the entire prison, Sector 7, if he wasn't mistaken. Despite being sparked a civilian groundframe, Dirtboss was very much a Decepticon, hating functionism and wishing to take revenge on his oppressors, the humans, very much. Had he not been ranting about his own origin and plans for the fleshlings, Starscream would have thought him a sparked Decepticon. Between Dirtboss and the Minicons keeping the prison, he _much_ preferred the Minicons and their creepy presence. Their processors were in some ways limited but they were sane and _neutral_. How had _anyone_ gotten _Minicons_ to work for them? Not even _Megatron_ and his silver glossa would have managed it, which only made Starscream more wary of this ... _Optimus Prime_ that everyone praised so greatly. He had lived long enough to see plenty of fake primes, politicians and soldiers both.

This one was ... _different_.

In the spark of him, he just _knew_ it.

And that, perhaps, was the most unsettling thing that has happened to him since he came to this waste of a planet.

Megatron watched the little Cybertronian, not even as tall as his knee joint, pass them, servos behind his back in a casual show of power and confidence and his field's harmonics were calm and deceptively stable, a politician's trick that Starscream hated to admitting to never quite mastering it. "Yes, I am aware. They, as true neutrals that have had nothing to do with any of our skirmishes, are used here in the legal and justice system. They run courts and prisons, for both the humans and the mecha who live on Earth. An ingenious way of keeping all trials fair. How Optimus Prime has managed to acquire their aid and loyalty is not something I have explored yet." The larger Decepticon looked back to him and Starscream hated how he couldn't decipher any emotion neither in his leader's EM field nor his faceplates. That spelled trouble. Megatron had let him challenge him in the past and had always seemed exasperated and disappointed at most when Starscream's plots failed spectacularly or didn't have strong enough arguments to back his actions up. Now, for the first time, Starscream saw that Megatron was no longer willing to play this game. Whatever had been keeping him online has expired and this was his warning. "He has placed you under his protection, did you know?"

"I thought I am _denied_ any protection I might have been able to get for attacking the disgusting organics," he half asked, half spat, trying to rail the larger warframe up. It's not impossible, but it's _very_ improbable that one will get a reaction out of Megatron except to get a sound beating from him, but that was not a reaction. That was discipline. And amongst warframes, it had to be aggressive. But as long as Megatron reacted in _any_ way, Starscream knew how to deal with him. This blankness was not what he was used to. Not even the narrowing of optics!

"No, you are _denied_ everything Metroplex has to offer _besides_ this cell. But you, as every other creature in the Independent Cybertronian Republic's space, are under his protection. You are safe from harm." He didn't appear to disapprove this notion, which only confused Starscream further. "Furthermore, you are unlikely to ever leave this cell. You have endangered lives and don't seem all that regretful of it. I doubt that your trial will end in your favor. And you can stop hoping for allies right now. I have yet to meet a bot willing to risk their place here for acts of stupidity." Dawning realization colored his field and he blanched when Megatron smirked at him, showing off his fanged dentae. "That's right, Starscream."

"You can't leave me here!" The seeker in question screeched, but Megatron only turned his back to him, making Starscream regret only placing _one_ explosive on him. He should have put his entire collection so not even slag was left behind. He wouldn't have been in this situation if he had.

"Oh, Starscream," called the other over a shoulder pauldron that Starscream only now realized was far too blocky to be anything of Cybertronian origin. Megatron had took on an alt mode from _this_ pathetic planet?! Why!? Not that it mattered. It wouldn't make Starscream's fate any better. "But I intend to and I am most content to do so."

"I am your Second!"

Megatron was already rounding the corner, out of sight. "Strika, I am sure, will more than manage." And he was gone, leaving Starscream alone with a lunatic and creepy little bots no one was comfortable around.

He had really fragged up big time.

00000

Days following his conversation with Starscream found Megatron appreciating Metroplex to the best of his ability, for he knew he couldn't stay for much longer, despite how much he wished otherwise. He had an army to lead and a war to return to, despite having finally found peace. And there were _still_ so many things to see and learn this strange community Optimus had built for himself and others like him, who wished to escape the war.

And there was still so much left to learn about Optimus Prime himself.

He had not seen him since his request to speak to Starscream, his former Second in Command, had been met, the red and blue mech seemingly never leaving the HQ for longer than to check on things that were completely necessary. Megatron had perhaps gotten a glimpse of him once or twice, but Optimus could barely slow down his stride to nod in his direction before he was gone again. There was some unease in the Autobots still staying in Metroplex and Megatron knew he counted at least half a dozen ships leaving so far, no doubt having been informed that the Elite Guard was no doubt making their way towards Earth. They were fleeing to save their careers, Megatron thought with disgust, but found he couldn't stay bothered by it for long.

He was leaning against a large, sturdy tree in a small clearing on Dinobot Island with a datapad and a stylus in servos, finding, to his great surprise, that he was inspired to write _poetry_ of all things. He wasn't sure when he had written a poem, last, but it had been vorns he was sure. The war didn't leave much time to write anything other than reports and orders and there had been nothing to inspire him in millennia. Dealing with Starscream had seemed to finally loosen something in him up enough for him to take one of his empty datapads and start writing again. He had just finished his fifth poem and his servo was already starting on the next one. Metroplex, the Republic, pit, even _Earth_ gave him a lot of inspiration even as he found his processor wandering off towards a certain grounder he might have never met under different circumstances. Two of his poems were actually about _him_ and Megatron was greatly embarrassed by such lack of control on his part. It was humiliating and would only cause more embarrassment should anyone ever read it. Yet, for reasons unknown, his servo stayed every time he tried to erase them.

Maybe he _should_ leave this planet as soon as he could. He was obviously losing his mind.

"Megatron?" A curious, familiar voice called and he looked up, locking optics with Optimus for longer than a few kliks for the first time in days, only for his gaze to be drawn to a squirming purple sparkling in his arms and be met with a red opticked glare. He reset his optics, startled at the reaction his frame was having to Optimus holding an obviously warframe sparkling that was possessively holding onto his neck.

"Optimus," he greeted back, focusing on the blue optics _not_ glaring at him but his gaze couldn't help but stray to the sparkling. His spark lurched inside his chassis when he noticed that the little one shared his frame type. "What brings you here? And who is this?" Megatron recognized him from that first day, when that group of sparklings had ran up to Optimus for attention, the group that had contained two warframe sparklings amongst the littler civilians. He wondered what that little femme seeker was up to and his spark gave yet another strange reaction. He wasn't sure that was all too healthy.

"This little one is Galvatron, my charge. He declared me his designated caretaker, so I often bring him out here to deal with the extra energy he has," the only civilianframe answered, smiling gently at the possessive sparkling, cooing at him, completely oblivious to the reactions his companion was having to this. Pit, _Megatron_ didn't know what to do or think about his own reactions. "Hook informed me he was ready to start his flying lessons, so I brought him here so we can figure it out. I'm not sure how much help I'll be, though, being a grounder and all." He gave a sheepish smile that had Megatron's own dermas pulling up.

"If it would not be too presumptuous of me, I'd like to offer my assistance." It had been far too long since he'd helped _anyone_ get used to their flight protocols, sparkling or newly sparked protoform, it didn't matter. "The little one seems to share my design specs. I remember my own first flight being a rather daunting experience. Though, I _did_ overdid it, a bit. My instructor had a very hard time getting me out of the air."

Optimus chuckled at his joke at his own expense and Megatron's spark skipped a few harmonics at the sound. "I would very much appreciate it. I may have had to learn to fly on my own, but I crashed into a fair amount of things before I managed to fly in a straight line. And though practice makes perfect, I'd rather not let Galvatron crash into every tree on Dinobot Island before he gets the hang of it."

Megatron started to chuckle at the shared experience before it registered in his processor what Optimus, a _grounder_ said, and he locked up, staring at the mech and fearing he might be experiencing a glitch. He couldn't speak until he reset his vocalizer several times, optics raking down Optimus' frame as he put little Galvtaron down, searching for ... well, _anything_ flight-related. The only thing that even _slightly_ resembled wings was the siren in the middle of Optimus upper back, between his shoulders. But they were not wings or flight stabilizers or _anything_ of the sort.

"You can fly?" He asked cautiously and watched how Optimus went still, still bowed to coo at Galvatron, before sighing and straightening up. There was the sound of plating shifting and of a transformation sequence before four flight stabilizers suddenly appeared around Optimus _grounder_ frame. He turned around and showed off the two bigger and two smaller flight stabilizers with discrete thrusters in the middle of his back. He looked like a mechanical butterfly with thin, _thin_ wings that didn't move. Megatron gapped when he activated the thrusters and Galvatron gave a squeal of joy, his own thrusters trying to come online as Optimus lifted up to hover a few meters above the ground. "But how?"

Optimus cut the thrusters and landed lightly, turning back to face Megatron, expression resigned and wary as he regarded him while answering. "They're integrated into my systems from exposure to a life-giving energy. Just ... sprang out, all of a sudden. The protocols, the equipment, everything. Didn't mean I knew how to fly right away. I crashed into quite a few buildings when flying out of Iacon. I'm writing it down to Primus' divine intervention that no one noticed." He looked away for a moment from the gawking Decepticon before meeting his gaze uncertainly again. "Everyone in the Republic knows, but can I ask you to keep it a secret from anyone else? The circumstances behind it are really not something I feel comfortable talking about and this is a precious advantage and element of surprise I try to keep secret."

"Only if you promise _never_ to tell anyone how I've acted since I woke up here, _ever_. To _anyone_. My reputation will be ruined in kliks," he said as soon as he shook off his surprise and tried not to react to the relief and gratitude shinning in the other's optics at such a small request being fulfilled. Instead, he cleared his vocalizer and nodded to the excited sparkling hugging Optimus pede. "Shall we begin his lessons?"

Galvatron gave an excited, loud chirp.

00000

Severar hours later found Optimus leaning against the Decepticon Lord's chest plates with his back to him, sitting in between his legs while Galvatron sat in his lap and half dozed as they both listened to Megatron reading some of his old poetry to them. It probably flew right over Galvatron's little helm, especially the deeper meaning and implications behind the words, but Megatron had a rather pleasing voice and Optimus would be lying if he said it wasn't lulling even him into recharge, as well. He couldn't remember the last time he recharged.

Probably the night before he left Cybertron.

Before the change ...

His spark was warm, there were strong arms encircling him and his young charge in an intentional or not - it didn't matter, either way; did you _see_ Megatron's forearms? It practically completely hid Optimus and Galvatron from view! - protective manner, two content EM fields brushed against his, sunlight was warming his plating, birds were chirping in the distance and the gentle wind rustled leaves in an almost soundless melody. Metroplex made him content, yes, and he knew he was safe and allowed to be content, but he always worried about _something_. There were thousands of sparks relying on him being a good leader and keeping Metroplex running as it should be, what with the visitors and the mechs that are always under his protection. There's always so nuch that could go wrong. Metroplex may have peace but it wasn't peaceful in the sense of the word that you could take a stasis nap wherever you please. There were Sunny and Sides, or Slipstream and her brothers and so many former Decepticons getting used to not shooting at everything that makes an unexpected noise.

The first few days, when he was alone in space with nothing but whispers to keep him company while he was trying to figure out how to repair Arcee's memory core, he hadn't been anywhere near as sure that he could do this, that he could provide mechs with a safe haven to escape the war, heading for Archa 7 to save a friend. Then he had Elita by his side and Arcee up and running in ship shape again, the AllSpark had found them and the rescues started within the next few solar cycles. First was Deadlock, then came a bot who wanted to leave as soon as he was adequately fueled. He'd had enough fuel with him to give him enough for three days for the road and he never saw that mech again. After a while came Hound, then later Dominus and Crosshairs and they found a near destroyed ship that needed help. They continued by this route for hundreds of stellar cycles and despite his inner circle growing, he had never been able to relax quite like this around them. Maybe Elita, or later the young ones that were sparked in his care. But he had never felt tempted to just fall into recharge and let it all go, even for a little while. Who would have thought that Decepticon Lord's were so comfy! It probably had something to do with his broad, calm, strong EM field. It enveloped him from all sides, blanketing him from worries.

The whispers purred in his spark, which was spinning contently, his harmonics as sleepy as he himself felt. He was sure there was nothing wrong if he just closed his optics for a little while. Just a few kliks. A breem at most.

But just a breem ...

00000

Elita One, or Ariel as she preferred to go by these days, didn't know whether she should tsk or coo at the sight she stumbled upon when she set out to search for Optimus regarding Ratchet's little outings with his newly fully repaired ship around their galaxy. She hadn't thought she'd ever see this sight again. Optimus had stopped recharging as soon as he realized he didn't _need_ to anymore without over-clocking his processor, instead using all that extra time to build up and keep the Republic up to the standards they had set for it over a thousand stellar cycles ago. She had thought that she'd never again get a chance to take cute holopics of him recharging in the cutest and funniest positions she had ever seen. She had tons of them from their Academy days, some of them even selfies next to her Amica Endure or if she got to cuddle in between Optimus and _him_. It did her spark good to see it again.

Pit, the last time she saw Optimus 'asleep' was because he was in emergency stasis that one time Hook, Hound, Ambulon and Fixit were working together for hours on end to put Optimus' chassis back together, one bolt at a time. He may not _have_ to recharge anymore, but it would do him some good and bots would worry less. None of them understood how he could go on so long without any proper rest.

Elita decided on her course of action when a big, black servo tightened around Optimus and the sparkling, drawing them closer to the big gray chassis. She took out a camera she hadn't used since the day they made a long-standing alliance with humans and took several photos before pinging Arcee to let her know where Galvatron was. Elita figured they'll be fine to nap here for a little while longer but she couldn't help the worry that seized her spark when she saw the happy little smile tugging at the corners of her leader's and closest friend's lips.

She'd be a fool not to see how differently Optimus treated Megatron, as subtle as it was, and only a blind mech couldn't see the way the older mech's red optics locked on Optimus whenever they were in any sort of proximity to each other. The gray warmonger was obviously smitten and Optimus returned the notion wholeheartedly. The mech had even gone out of his way to make Optimus a copy of _Towards Peace_ with a dedication, for Primus' sake! Elita doubted Megatron would have stayed as long as he had - he'd been ready for travel within the first few days since he woke up - if he wasn't interested in Optimus in _some_ way, but she knew he _still_ planned on leaving.

Elita One didn't want to see the pain and resignation in Optimus' optics as he said goodbye, the slowly building _something_ being cut short. The likeliness of them ever meeting again once Megatron is returned to his last known location or the last known location of one of his generals was slim to none. No one returned to Metroplex if they left it once. Simply because they are _never_ allowed to leave Metroplex by normal means of travel. They are always transwarped by the space bridge. It was a security measure. Megatron will be no exception. She doubted Optimus will give him their coordinates, even if he desperately wanted to see Megatron again.

Secrecy is their best security measure. It's what has kept Metroplex out of conflicts and wars for centuries. Once Megatron goes through that space bridge, there goes their only chance to make something of whatever was happening between them. The Republic's mecha were bound to celebrate. They all loved Optimus dearly. They want him to be happy. They want him to enjoy his life as much as _they_ were, all thanks to _him_.

Ariel didn't want to see him sad, even though she knew it was inevitable. Megatron was a Decepticon, _the_ Decepticon. He had a people to run. Pit, Optimus will probably be the one to _convince_ him to go back. He understood responsibility, especially a responsibility like _that_. He won't ask Megatron to stay. He'll watch him go with a heavy spark, but he won't stop him.

So Ariel took holopics to preserve the memory of this peace for him before turning to her spider alt mode and skittering away.

She didn't want to intrude and her report can wait.


	18. Chapter 18

**Thief**

**Summary: Ancient cities and artifacts of great power don't just disappear on their own! The number of defections rises. A group of washouts and a warlord wind up on a world unlike any they've seen before and the leader is interesting enough. Peace. Equallity. And no factions, put your weapons down, Primus damn it!**

Megatron didn't quite understand Optimus' embarrassment over their little nap, as it was quite pleasant and was an experience he wouldn't mind repeating, but didn't prod. In fact, the entire _day_ was one he would mind putting on repeat and living and reliving over and over again. From the peace and serenity and quiet while he had been alone and writing, to the laughter and teasing and yelps and chirps during the lesson to, finally, that moment of _belonging_ when he had held his two smaller companions close and felt their content EM fields brushing against his being the last thing he remembered before falling into recharge. Waking up to warm plating pressed against his own and a sparkling poking his currently blocky helm curiously with Optimus still slumbering in his arms felt more like _peace_ than he had ever experienced in his long lifetime. It was undeniably the best recharge he had ever had, so Optimus' embarrassment was beyond him.

Then again, the younger mech was _still_ a civilian and they don't understand how warframes can be so casual about touch and interface, though they _do_ shy away from more intimate acts, like holding servos or cuddling. _Especially_ in public places. Now that he thought about it, shouldn't _Megatron_ be the one embarrassed by their little indulgence? Think about what it would do to his reputation if someone had _seen_ them! And yet he did not regret it, not when he witnessed how Optimus slowly, sluggishly dragged his processor back online with strange murmurs that Megatron had no hope of understanding and just brushed it off on drowsiness.

They were both startled, however, when they realized both they _and_ Galvatron had not only slept the day away, but the night, too, and that it was late morning of the next solar cycle. Galvatron had to be returned to the youth center for fuel and lessons all Republic sparklings get so they can choose what they want to be when they grow up. Which is how they found themselves flying slowly towards the youth center, keeping to warmer, weaker winds for the sparkling's sake, though he seemed to be doing fine. Megatron couldn't repress his pride at how quick of a learner he was anymore than Optimus could. A single day of flying lessons and he was already holding his own quite fine. He'll grow to be a strong one.

Thinking of a fully grown Galvatron totting _Optimus_ around now caused him great amusement and a confused frown from said flying grounder when he heard the noise over the wind and detected the feeling in his EM field. Megatron, flying in root mode so he could catch Galvatron should the need arise, just have him a fanged grin that did nothing to reassure Optimus but he let it go. Apparently, he was used to the jagged, wicked amusement of warframes and learned it was better not to ask. Megatron was almost disappointed that he didn't get to tease the brightly colored mech but figured it was for the best. They can't get distracted while watching over a sparkling making its first flight. It would be dangerous.

Galvatron ended up too tired to finish said first flight and was instead carried in Optimus' servos the rest of the way to their destination, much to the young little mech's obvious delight. Megatron couldn't help but smile as he watched the little one snuggle up to Optimus as they finally landed, much to the grounder's embarrassment, judging from the heat radiating from his faceplates. But his amusement was replaced with surprise when he was invited into the center itself, as he had been under the impression that only permanent citizens could access the youth center. It left him awkwardly walking at Optimus' side as they made their way through the winding hallways, all still tall and wide enough to accommodate mechs Megatron's size and bigger, and he didn't even have to sidestep so he and other warframes could pass each other. They shot him curious glances but Optimus presence by his side seemed to be permission enough for him to visit the most vulnerable and most important place for the community. It made Megatron wonder just how Optimus had gained their trust to this level. Warframes were _very_ overprotective of sparklings.

The classrooms and playrooms were all visible behind a wall of glass and there were _many_ of them. And each one had at the very least a dozen sparklings or younglings. Megatron had known that the community had _plenty_ of sparklings, but he had never thought there were _this much_. He continued gazing into each room they passed in awe, the young ones returning it if they noticed him and the caretakers pausing in what they were doing just long enough to nod at the passing mechs, shooting him a curious glance but evidently used to Optimus coming and going, especially with Galvatron in servo. Said sparkling was now pouting that he had been put down but seemed content to walk if he got to hold Optimus' hand. It was far too cute for a warframe, but at least Galvatron had the excuse of being a mere sparkling.

And there were _plenty_ of other warframe sparklings among all the civilian ones, grounders and fliers both. They were of all shapes and sizes and color schemes and frametypes, and they were all _adorable_. Megatron felt his systems desperately trying to online his protection protocols, but he shunned them. He couldn't afford to have them active because then he'd never be able to continue fighting the Autobots for Cybertron and his Decepticoms needed him more than the Republic did. And if he let his protocols online for civilian sparklings, he'll never be able to fight the programming again and might as well just let himself to be slaughtered because that was a lot more likely to happen than him being useful to his warriors again. The only reason he had been able to fight them in the first place was his treatment, which had caused the Autobots to be registered as threats while his battle protocols were active and as such he never felt compelled to protect civilians until he came to Metroplex.

_'Is that how you tame our tempers, Optimus Prime? Is that why you brought me here?'_ He couldn't help but wonder, stealing a glance at the mech in question. But no, that couldn't be it. It was too underhanded for someone whose field always pulsed with sincerity and held not an ounce of guilt. And if he was using the warframes' own coding against them, then every former Decepticon that had ever gotten here would have never left. It wasn't manipulation. It had been their choice to stay. Optimus wasn't trying to manipulate him by letting him walk around the youth center despite not being a Republic mech. He could have done that just as easily out in the streets. _'Then why _are_ you taking me with you?'_

The answer quite literally flung itself at his pedes the second they entered Galvatron's class/playroom in the form of a happily chirping little seeker femmeling, one that he was intimately familiar with from his first day on Earth. He stared at her in shock as she continued warbling up at him while hugging his pede, adoring little red optics locking on him. He found himself speechless but she wasn't exactly looking for conversation. No, she was making insistent 'pick me up' motions and he found himself complying without even being aware of doing it, much to her delight. She continued making the motions until he pressed their helms together in a mirror of their first meeting and she cooed a greeting at him as soon as their forehelms touched. Something in him that he hadn't even realized was tense relaxed and he returned her coo. This femme sparkling was going to be the death of him with her cute and brave antics. No one had made him melt so throughly in all his life.

"Is this why you brought me here?" He couldn't not ask, as there _had_ to be a reason why Optimus had taken him to the youth center. Optimus didn't do anything without a good reason for it, of that much he was sure. Especially not regarding something this _delicate_.

"She's been asking about my 'new friend'," was all the red and blue truck said by way of answer when a feminine chuckle reached their audials, making Megatron withdraw from the little femme's forehead. She warbled disapprovingly at him but settled when she got to place her helm over his spark and offlined her optics. To Megatron's stunned amazement, she fell into content recharge within kliks.

"Ah, so you're the 'big gray' she has been telling me about," a smiling pink and white femme with kind blue optics commented, holding a sparkling on her hip while two others, an orange and green twins with huge, round blue optics by the looks of it, peeked out from behind her legs, other sparklings watching from a bit behind her or hiding behind the femme seeker, Slipatream, who was standing there with a scowl on her face and crossed servos, looking decidedly unhappy with him. He wasn't overly familiar with the smaller femme, but he knew her to be a cyberninja, one of Optimus closest companions, an administrator and that her name was Arcee. "You left quite an impression on little Onyxflame here."

He looked back to the black and red seeker and had to admit the name suited her, even if not in appearance, then definitely in personality. He knew mechanisms hundred times her age, maybe even thousands of times her age that would cower before him and yet she _cooed _at him. She was a brave one and he knew she will become quite the warrior when she grows up. "Arcee. It is good to see you." He settled for with a nod.

"Megatron," the femme greeted back with that same smile on her dermas. "I guess Optimus finally decided to show you around here, too. I was wondering when that might happen. I heard you helped him with Galvatron?"

Optimus, who had went further into the room to greet the other sparklings and Slipstream, stopped like a mechanoanimal caught in headlights and slowly turned to look at the pink femme, dread in his optics and his field pulsing unease so intense that Megatron looked at him with vague worry. "Where did you get that idea?" Megatron watched in fascination as he looked between the two femmes, body tense enough to start straining, looking ready to bolt at any nanosecond now. He actually flinched when Slipstream's clawed servos clamped down on his red shoulderstrut and Megatron began to dread whatever was coming when he saw the devious grins split both femmes' faceplates.

Grinning femmes were never a good thing. He knew from his millions of stellar cycles of experience with Strika. The only time she was more terrifying or formidable than on the battlefield or in strategic meetings was when she was grinning, as it was usually something personal and potentially embarrassing that she had gotten her servos on. Usually regarding Megatron himself. It would seem Optimus had much the same experience.

And he had four femmes in his immediate circle.

Megatron actually felt pity for the grounder.

He felt even worse for his own reputation when Slipstream took out a datapad with her free servo and showed them both _dozens_ of holopics of their little afternoon cuddle from yesterday. Megatron was _horrified_. How can he look so _cute_!? He was the Decepticon Lord for crying out loud! The Emperor of Destruction, the Slagmaker, the Champion of the Gladiatorial Pits of Kaon! Autobots went about scaring each other by saying he ate Autobot protoforms for breakfast! He had fought in wars and led mechs into battles that most would call suicidal or hopeless and he had _survived_! An _explosion_ on his _back_ couldn't offline him! His name was synonym to _terror_ across the universe! How can he be _cute_!?

He blamed it on Optimus and Galvatron. They were the adorable ones and made him _cute_ by association. He needs to stop this before it spreads. His reputation is at stake! What will his Decepticons think?!

(Probably that he'd be a really good sire and that he deserves a good, deserving, kind, strong, caring and loving mate and a _huge_ clutch of sparklings to spoil, but that's just Strika's more repressed femme side and Shockwave's more grounder desire to have sparklings to teach about the Decepticon Cause talking. Primus forbid he ever learns what _Lugnut_ has to say about the matter. Or Blitzwing's Random persona. He might swear to celibacy if he does.)

Optimus' groan distracted him from his own panic and he turned to look at the red and blue mech, who had his heated face hidden in his servos, Galvatron contentedly using him as a climbing post until he was hanging off of Optimus back and sucking on one of the energon goodies he got from somewhere. "I should have _known_ Elita would somehow find me."

Confused, Megatron looked down at one of the holopics and found the culprit for this shameful, embarrassing atrocity had taken what humans call a 'selfie' with his sleeping self and his companions. He should have known Ariel will be more trouble than it had first appeared. She _definitely_ would have made a really good Decepticon.

"Well, it's not as if your and Galvatron's location is _secret_ or anything," Slipstream said with that slag-eating grin still firmly in place, her hold on her leader not letting up, preventing him from trying to escape the teasing. "And I think this is _really_ good," the seeker femme looked down at the datapad and her grin turned much softer and much, much more fond. "It's good to see you recharge for once."

"I'm not talking about that again, Slipstream," Optimus said firmly, face leaving his hands so he can glare properly at the femme. At seeing her pout, he sighed and instead just reached for Galvatron and detached him from his backstruts, much to the sparkling's displeasure. "I need to go back to the HQ. Ratchet's returning from their little test flight tomorrow afternoon and I need to go greet them. And I'm pretty sure Strongarm had a breakdown when I didn't turn up for work yesterday afternoon or this morning."

"She, Sari and Smokescreen know and may or may not have distributed the photos further, namely to Hook and Skyfire." Arcee replied before her smile vanished from her face. "Skyfire's condition is worsening again. It's becoming really questionable of how long he might stay online for. Hook says there's nothing more that he can do."

"He has anything from a few days to a few years left," Slipstream, who had also lost her grin, said solemnly. The atmosphere was thick with tension now, but the sparklings were mostly ignorant of it, having gotten bored of the new adult and going back to play. Only Onyxflame remained with Megatron and Galvatron was now hugging Optimus' pedes, unwilling to let go just yet.

"And that depends entirely on the medical care he gets," Arcee finished, looking away while chewing on her lower lip plate. Megatron was watching them with a sharp optic but said nothing, readjusting Onyxflame where she was sleeping. Optimus obviously had something to say about Arcee's hesitant reaction, judging by how he was looking at her and the pink bot squirmed.

"You have a suggestion." It wasn't a question, it was an open statement. He was giving her the opportunity to reply to it how she saw fit, but, judging from the knowing look he was giving her and the tone of voice he was using, he knew what she was going to say. Slipstream, though, seemed as in the dark about this as Megatron was. Quite frankly, Megatron didn't know many bots who might surpass Hook in skills and, among the Decepticons, if Hook said you were a lost case, then you were slagged and might as well start saying your goodbyes. Because Hook, while incredibly _arrogant_, had earned himself the rights to it with his skill and knowledge of his craft. He was an artist in the operating room. He could save almost anyone's spark. Megatron had _heard_ of _some_ bot in the Autobot lines that could match Hook's skills. Some grounder that had made a name for himself by practically preforming _miracles_. If Megatron remembered well, he was infamous for his bad temper (a common characteristic amongst medics, no surprise there), wielding a wench like a weapon and being grumpy ...

Oh.

"I think we should have Ratchet take a look," Arcee said, confirming Megatron's dawning thoughts and Optimus' suspicion, judging by how he nodded. Slipstream's lip plates, though, thinned in displeasure, making the only Decepticon there wonder just _what_ her connection to this Skyfire might be. "He might say no, but he won't harm him if we give him the opportunity to save Skyfire. He takes his oaths _really_ seriously. I strongly believe he will help."

"How can you _know_?" The seeker femme asked, wings slanted in a very familiar manner that spoke of aggression. Megatron had not been around Starscream for as long as he had to be ignorant of the secrets of wing-speak, so to say. The gesticulations of a seeker's wings were a whole separate language that seekers are born with while anyone else has to spend stellar cycles upon stellar cycles to learn the most basic cues. Two seekers could be saying out loud one thing and have an entirely different conversation through their wing movements. The way Slipstream held he wings now spoke of aggression, suspicion and protectiveness in equal measure. "You literally only knew him one joor, if even _that_, before you had him erase your memory drives! You don't know the type of person he is!"

"Ratchet and I have spoken at length since he arrived here," Arcee replied in a tone Megatron guessed she used when trying to placate a sparkling, but there was still a certain edge to her words. She wasn't budging on this. Megatron and Optimus wisely took a step back in case the two femmes got physical. It will be significantly easier to separate them if they and their charges aren't drawn into the initial clash. "I've gotten to know him. He's a good medic and an even better mech. Even Hook and Ambulon have only good things to say about his ethics and you _know_ Soundwave approved of him and the rest of his group when they first landed. _Optimus_ approves of him and you _know_ that means he has no nefarious intentions. At worst, he'll be uncomfortable treating a warframe. At best, he'll find a way to help or something that might numb any pain Skyfire might experience. He's the best medic the Autobots ever had, if not the best medic of _both_ factions. You can ask Ambulon if you don't believe me."

Slipstream was seething with rage but Megatron read in the position of her wings that he was resigned and worried sick. Helpless in face of solid argument, she turned pleading optics on Optimus and Megatron was struck by how _young_ she appeared right then, in that moment of vulnerability. That's right. Optimus said she and her trine-mates were relatively young. Creations of the AllSpark, so they were surely under one thousand stellar cycles old and that is practically a _youngling_ by Cybertronian time standards. She, like Strongarm and Smokescreen, was probably one of Optimus' protégés, Megatron was sure of that. In some instances, he'd seen them acting that way, which only further supported his opinion. But Slipstream was a typical proud seeker and didn't allow herself to depend on Optimus too much. This was perhaps the first time Megatron had seen her acting her real age instead of her frame's appearance's age.

He watched in interest as Optimus gave her a reassuring smile with his reply. "It certainly won't hurt to ask. If Ratchet can help, then all the better. If he doesn't want to, it's his choice, and if he can't, then at least we know we tried everything. At least none of us will live with regrets or guilt, the 'what ifs' keeping us up at night." He shook his head and gestured for Galvatron to go join his fellow sparklings. "But, in the end, it all comes down to Ratchet's and Skyfire's decision. What they do is the deciding factor. We can't force either of them. It's their choice."

The seeker slumped but nodded her helm in acceptance. "I guess you're right."

The mech returned her nod, smiling. "I guess I just have one more reason to speak with Ratchet tomorrow. Now, if you'll excuse me," the smile suddenly had a dangerous edge to it as the red and blue bot turned on his pedes and started marching out of the room. "I have an Amica Endura to strand deep in the Amazon rain forest. _Again_." The sparklings all waved at him as he left while the two femmes exchanged a look between them. Arcee reached her servo up to her comm unit, hailing a signal.

"Ariel, this is Arcee. I'd say you have fifteen kliks to get lost before you get reacquainted with Chad the Chattering Monkey again. Good luck, girl."

Slipstream snickered at the look on Megatron's face as he stared at them. "This is _hardly_ the first time Ariel had pulled an 'Academy stunt', as they call it, on him, only Optimus has a _very_ interesting way of getting back at her." She took out her datapad and looked at it again with a smirk in Megatron's direction. "Who knew you could be so cute?"

That's it. He glared at her and was about to show her how he dealt with _other_ certain seekers he knows - nothing damaging or overly violent; he didn't need to be. Seeker wings were highly sensitive and a tweak in the right place will have her spewing apologies in seconds - when he got a ping over his comms.

From Hook.

About the holopics.

He wanted to meet.

Megatron groaned. "Kill me now."

Onyxflame continued sleeping.


	19. Chapter 19

**Thief**

**Summary: Ancient cities and artifacts of great power don't just disappear on their own! The number of defections rises. A group of washouts and a warlord wind up on a world unlike any they've seen before and the leader is interesting enough. Peace. Equallity. And no factions, put your weapons down, Primus damn it!**

Sari didn't remember the last time she had had this much fun. Bumblebee was a riot and Bulkhead was a really interesting guy, both were extremely fun to be around and _loved_ playing games with her. So to get five whole days just for themselves - and, well, Ratchet, Prowl, Drift, Crosshairs and Barricade - on a ship, away from anyone who might interrupt their games was _awesome_!

And that's not even mentioning that the Orion was actually a talking, living, sentient ship! How cool was that!

Six days ago, Optimus had taken them down to the ship yard to have Ratchet turn off the distress signal on his ship, the Orion, so that the Elite Guard has a tougher time in finding them on Earth and so Metroplex, Detroit and their inhabitants could prepare better for their inevitable arrival. Only, Ratchet had decided to drop a bomb on them - well, not Optimus. Optimus was a history geek and had recognized the ship almost immediately and so he had known for quite some time now - by revealing that the ship was actually one of the Omega Sentinels from the Great War, one of the instruments of the Decepticon's defeat. Omega Supreme, to be exact. And Ratchet was his mentorbot. Omega Supreme was still very much alive, just in a modified stasis that prevented his spark from going out, so he was stuck offline in his ship mode and no one knew it was him besides Autobot High Command and Ratchet - and Drift, but Drift (formerly Deadlock) was almost obsessed with Ratchet and knew almost everything about him so he didn't count. The Elite Guard didn't bother to repair their war hero and instead re-purposed him by taking all of his weapons systems and transformation protocols offline, leaving him almost an empty, sad shell of his former self. Ratchet had always lacked the means to bring him back online so he had finally taken Optimus offer on it, six days ago, and Optimus had agreed.

The ship yard was cleared of all former Decepticon personnel so Omega doesn't start shooting and Optimus - with Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Crosshairs, Hound, Ariel, Arcee, Soundwave, Smokescreen and Strongarm as backup (don't ask how hard it was to convince Slipstream, her brothers and a few other warframes or the Dinobots that they can't go on an Omega Sentinel if they wished to come out of it alive and undamaged) - brought the AllSpark on board with Sari trailing after them to bring all of Omega's systems back online while Optimus reignited his spark. It took them half a joor before Omega Supreme was fully online and slowly making his way out of the dome to take his first flight in millions of stellar cycles, Ratchet having to fight off coolant tears as he explained everything to his old friend. After a throughout diagnosis of his systems, Omega Supreme was ready for a tour around the galaxy to warm up all of his gears and Ratchet had decided to use this opportunity to throughly explain some things to his younger companions, since Bumblebee seemed set on staying and Bulkhead went everywhere Bumblebee did. Sari was rather pleased with that. She liked them and knew they were just the right kind of crazy to fit right in. If they understood just _why_ functionists were not welcome, they were _sure_ to _be_ welcome. They just needed to be made aware of the propaganda flying left and right in their low key still ongoing war with the Decepticons, on _both_ sides.

Being away from Metroplex seemed to have done them some good. It gave them a new perspective of all that they have seen and experienced in the last month or so that they've spent on Earth and in _true_ peace, not that farce going on back on Cybertron. Prowl definitely seemed satisfied with his decision and didn't at all mourn the loss of his red Autobot badge. He had come with Drift, Crosshairs, Barricade and herself not as their guests, like Bumblebee, Bulkhead, Ratchet and Omega, but like a Republic citizen sent to keep an optic on their guests, one of which is a dangerous shipformer that could cause them quite a bit of trouble even with their defenses in place. Bumblee was more determined than ever to stay and gladly soaked up the history lessons Docbot, Drift and Crosshairs gave him and he listened to Barricade's rants about functionism without complaint. A first in both cases. She'd never seen him sit so still in the weeks she'd known him. Bulkhead had liked Metroplex from the first tour they received and he loved how he can be an artist here. No one was approaching him about his space bridge expertise just yet, but that didn't mean they were oblivious to them. They figured he can choose whether he wants to tell them or not. Besides, their space bridge was functioning just fine and they have been more than capable of maintaining it between Optimus, the AllSpark and Sari.

Ratchet was the one that really changed his perspective of Metroplex and of the Independent Cybertronian Republic altogether. He had been unconsciously fighting against it, rather aggressively, too, but now that he wasn't surrounded by warbuilds and could view the whole thing from an outsider's view without any influences from his own paranoia and past experiences, he saw the full scale of the miracle Optimus had worked out and wasn't sure whether he was terrified or in awe of Optimus Prime for managing it for a thousand and fifty years straight without incident. Now, Sari knew Optimus could be intimidating - those nights in the Basilica when everyone gathered is the best example of when Optimus Prime didn't appear to be an ordinary mech like every other bot - and that he has a more aggressive side to him - usually when someone tries to harm the Republic or its people - but Sari had known him all her life and she _knew_ there was no one more worthy of trust than him. Ratchet had needed several reasons to trust him, but bringing Omega Supreme back online seems to have the red and white medic rethinking his life choices.

Drift helped.

The entirety of the team might just stay on Earth after all. Sari was so happy!

Meeting the bots working on other planets helped. Well, probably not Steeljaw and his lot, since Steeljaw seems to have a deeper interest in the oblivious Bumblebee and Barricade didn't seem to like that very much. Sari giggled to herself as she recalled the two former Decepticons posturing at each other with Bumblebee looking between the two with open confusion. It was a very good thing indeed that Steeljaw preferred to stay on Pluto most of the year. He never got along with certain members of their community, namely Barricade and Breakdown. He didn't dare try and mess with _Dominus_, but no one was crazy enough to tango with the former DJD member. His right servo mech, though ... Well, they all just two days ago saw how Drift had to physically separate Steeljaw and Barricade before a fight could break out. Barricade was a brilliant enforcer and while he could always activate his non lethal fight protocols, he tended _not_ to when the beastformer was in question. And seeing as Sari was fairly sure the police car had a bit of a crush on her new best friend, it was definitely for the best that they hadn't stayed for long.

And the Aerialbots had also left quite an impression. Especially as a couple of them had _blue_ optics, since they were from Caminus and not Cybertronian warframes. From what Sari was taught so far, Caminus was the home of both grounders and fliers but while they were originally Cybertronian in origin, their culture was vastly different from anything on Cybertron itself. For instance, there was no difference in frame types. There were no warframes and civilianframes, just fliers and grounders. None of them had integrated weaponry but they were onlined with their own battle protocols none the less. A strange combination of Cybertronians altogether. And they were all highly, almost fanatically religious, the main reason why Optimus had never went there himself. Sari figured that the Caminians they had in the community could be overwhelming enough, imagine if the whole _planet_ was like that. Optimus definitely wouldn't be comfortable there. The Aerialbots were an okay bunch, all things considered. A little bit arrogant, a little bit reckless but all around nice bots. Being around non hostile flightframes and warframe fliers did Ratchet some good to relax and chill our regarding former Decepticons.

Again, Drift helped. A _lot_.

Now, Sari didn't know their story but Drift was beyond smitten with the grumpy medic and Ratchet seemed to reluctantly return that affection with a good overdose of exasperation for the cyberninja. Blame her human fangirl side on it, but she thought they might be kind of hot together. Not nearly as hot as Barricade and Bumblebee would be if the yellow racer ever figured it out or Barricade got the ballbearings to outright make a move. Not as hot as Soundwave and Blaster would be if they finally figured out how to ask each other out.

And _definitely_ not as hot as Optimus and Megatron would be if the Decepticon leader was staying.

The grin that had crept up onto her face fell as soon as she pondered that thought. There was no doubt the two were interested in each other, just as there was no doubt that Megatron will be leaving soon. Which was a shame. Ariel had sent her those holopics and Sari had squealed about them so loudly that the visiting Autobots thought it was a sonic attack, a proximity alert or that she was experiencing a malfunction. Seeing as Drift, Crosshairs and even Barricade - the pics must have been distributed quite far if Franzy could get his clawed freaky little servos on them, considering how much he and Ariel hated each other (_Don't_ ask) - were smirking and weren't panicking, the Autobots had calmed down and asked about her reaction. Of course, only _Prowl_ got to see what had her so excited and she still feels kind of worried for him. She had never seen someone glitch so badly in all her life. Then again, it's not every solar cycle that you see Megatron looking _cute_.

Optimus had a rather large, all things considered, inner circle but Sari had never known him to recharge next to any of them. She still marveled over the fact that he _didn't_ recharge _at all_. It was a right shame that whatever was bubbling up between him and Megatron was doomed not to last. But Megatron couldn't become one of their citizens any more than Optimus could become a Decepticon and those were the only options for them to work. Which was just too bad. Especially since both Galvatron and Onyxflame were getting attached. Well, somewhat. Galvatron will always take Optimus over everyone but he seems to like Megatron well enough.

Sari sighed as she looked out Omega Supreme's window as they descended to Detroit. Omega Supreme will probably have to stay on Dinobot Island, since it seemed cruel to keep him underwater now that he was awake. He had even more to see than the Autobots had, since his last memory was of a desolate battlefield. Hopefully, Ariel should be able to keep the Dinobots away. That is, whenever she manages to crawl back to civilization from wherever Optimus had dropped her off _this_ time. Last time it had taken her a week. It was so common an occurrence that she was friends with the locals and they usually came to pick her up if Optimus is particularly vengeful and ties her up so she can't escape immediately. The Brazilians usually have no reservations about bringing her back, finding the occurrences much too funny to complain. Ariel didn't like it when she encountered this one chimp that _always_ seemed to find her and cling to her in the past decade or so. The locals have named him Chad for no apparent reason and the monkey _loved_ Ariel. Sari often teased her it was because she resembled a giant banana, much to the spider femme's great offense and annoyance.

Her smile returned when Slipstream and a handful of other seekers came into view, making familiar formations to lead Omega Supreme to his landing 'runway'. Ratchet and Omega weren't all that happy to leave the piloting to Crosshairs, the only experienced pilot present that knew to follow the signals the seekers were giving, but the landing procedures were soon over and Omega was turning off his flight engines and opening the cargo hold for them to exit the ship. On the grassy ground waiting for them was the somewhat usual group consisting of Optimus, Dominus Ambus and Soundwave, joined by her father, Arcee and Captain Fanzone and Franzy, who was already rushing past Sari to get back to his partner. Arcee rarely joined these little 'welcoming committies', as Soundwave was usually there to evaluate if the returning group was in any way compromised with his empathic/telepathic abilities while Dominus served as protection. Usually a medic was also on hand, but Sari had heard about Skyfire's worsening condition so she guessed they were busy with him. The old jet didn't want to be repaired by Sari's Key, Optimus or the AllSpark if there was no 'natural' way of fixing him, but no one wanted the Republic's eldest citizen to perish before he has a chance to see Cybertron again. Optimus in particular was stubborn about that and Slipstream, Ramjet and Sunstorm backed him up all the way. Fanzone and Franzy were here for Barricade while her dad was here to greet her.

She smiled and rushed over to him to hug him, careful of his back. It had been giving him problems as of late but it was to be expected with his age. "Hey, dad. I missed you."

Isaac Sumdac smiled up at his - technically but not really adopted - daughter as they drew apart. "Hello, Sari. I missed you as well. I hope you had fun?"

"Yeah, it was awesome!" Barricade was coming down now with a chattering Franzy sitting in his palm, filling the enforcer in on everything that had been going on while they were traveling across the Solar System. "I hope we didn't miss anything major."

"Oh, no. It was business as usual," her dad waved it off while Fanzone gruffly greeted his partner back.

"Had a good vacation?" The blond cop with a mustache asked with good-natured amusement.

"I got to put Steeljaw in his place so I have no complaints. Not to mention that I got away from this chatter-mouth for a while, but I'm glad to get back to work. Idleness doesn't sit well with me." The two laughed while Franzy tittered protests and pouted.

"Yeah, I have no idea how Suzann likes this thing. It's insufferable." More protests from the silver cassette, much to the two's amusement. "And good thing you're back. I hate my police vehicle. The Mrs little Ms both missed you. They're too used to you to be stuck with a subpar car."

Barricade, who no one is sure how he wedged his place into the machine-hating policeman's heart and into his family, laughed as he transformed and opened his door for Captain Fanzone, Franzy already in the shotgun seat. "I should hope so. Come on. We have criminals to catch and delinquents to punish. My blaster's been itching for _days_ and the cuffs have been tempting me before we even left the orbit. Let's get those fraggers." And as Fanzone eagerly climbed in, the three bid Optimus and the others farewell and drove off before Dominus could demand a report. It was really a good thing that Red Alert had decided to go for a nurse's career because he would be having several anxiety and sparkattacks had it been him in the former DJD member's shoes. As it was, Dominus just grabbed his nearest new victim - which just so happened to be poor Prowl - and dragged him off to do it in Barricade's place.

Well, Prowl _did_ want to enter their Police and Enforcer Department. He better get used to their Head of Security if he wished to continue down that path.

Sari saw Optimus watch them go and shake his helm before turning to greet the rest of the travelers getting off of Omega and Omega himself. Sari found herself snickering when she saw the incredulous way Ratchet stared at him every time he so casually spoke to a mech so much bigger than him, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Optimus had seen a _lot_ to get where he was now and Ratchet had _no idea_ just to _what_ he was used to by now. Most of the Republic was, too. They may have peace but it was far from peaceful and quiet _or_ normal for them. And they rather liked it that way.

"Medical Officer Ratchet," the way Optimus said it surprised them all, especially when Arcee fell to his side and watched them with a blank look, her posture stiff in parade rest. Slipstream landed a few meters away before coming to Optimus other side, the two femmes flanking him, Slipstream's face equally as blank but her wings hinted at nervousness and slight aggression as she stared at Ratchet. "I don't usually do this but I'd like to make a formal request of you."

"Oh?" The old medic asked, arching an optic ridge, turning to lick optics with Drift but the other two Republic mechs were just as blank as Arcee and Slipstream. Uncertain as to what was going on, Ratchet turned his full attention back to Optimus.

"You are, of course, free to decline and no one will hold it against you, but I really hope you can help us." Sari had a pretty good idea where this was going, especially given how uneasy Slipstream was.

"Well?" Ratchet asked impatiently, crossing his servos over his chest with a huff. "What is it?"

Sari watched as Arcee shifted around in uneasy very subtly while Slipstream's wings only showed more agitation and aggressiveness. But Optimus remained steadfast as he kept optic contact with the medic, cool as a cucumber. Bumblebee and Bulkhead were watching the interaction with confusion while her father tried to not intrude.

"I was wondering if you would check up on Skyfire? He is dying and we fear we have no means of preserving his spark. His condition is critical and Arcee has recommended you. You are not in any way obliged to do so, but we would appreciate it if you would at least look him over."

Ratchet stiffened at the request and the two youngsters from his team shared uncertain looks. Ratchet had still been uncomfortable around true warframes, the fliers, the last time they had been on Earth and Sari knew that a human week was far too short a time span for a war veteran to forgive and forget the wounds the other faction had done upon his own. _Skyfire _was definitely not a grounder name and didn't ring Carmian, either. It was actually pretty Vosian, despite Skyfire's carrier being, well, a carrier jet instead of an elegant, sleek seeker. Skyfire, as can be expected, is a warframe and had supported Megatron in his early uprisings but had defected when the war officially started and went away. He was an old bot, onlined shortly before the war with the Quintessons, making him the oldest citizen of Metroplex by far and one of the oldest living mechs of the entire Cybertronian species. He was loved by all, ever since he joined Optimus on his journey, eight hundred sixty nine stellar cycles ago. No one wanted to see him go, especially not in such a suffering way.

They all stared at Ratchet, the Republic mecha trying their hardest to keep their faces blank and their fields void of emotion that might give away their anxiety while Bulkhead and Bumblebee looked decidedly uncomfortable with the whole situation. For just a klik, Sari feared Ratchet would say no, would let his grudge against the Cons override his medic's coding and let Skyfire extinguish, but then he gave Optimus such a determined look that the girl could practically feel hope reignite in the Republic's mecha's sparks, as well as her own.

"Show me to the patient."


	20. Chapter 20

**Thief**

**Summary: Ancient cities and artifacts of great power don't just disappear on their own! The number of defections rises. A group of washouts and a warlord wind up on a world unlike any they've seen before and the leader is interesting enough. Peace. Equallity. And no factions, put your weapons down, Primus damn it!**

Just two days after his visit with Optimus to the youth sector, Megatron found himself being dragged to a city wide party the likes of which rivaled that strange conclave that had happened not so long ago and all bots are welcome. He had no idea what the occasion was but an energetic, enthusiastic minibot by the designation of Tailgate - that sounded awfully familiar, but the mech was young and had blue optics so he wasn't one of his Decepticons and yet he still seemed somehow familiar ... - had hunted him down in the training rooms and had insisted that he join in, as well. Megatron wanted to protest, but the minibot wouldn't listen and that's how Megatron found himself surrounded by overcharged mecha of both factions, formerly or currently still, a cube of high grade in his servos, listening to some very interesting songs as he tried to figure out what the occasion was behind the celebration. Tailgate stuck close to his side most of the time, chatting about this or that and was completely unbothered by the fact that his companion wasn't really listening, apparently just happy to have someone to talk to.

There was loud music and conversation everywhere and, for once, everyone seems to have forgotten that the war had happened - or was still kind of going on - at all, simply enjoying good company and good drinks. Swerve had brought out some new oil and energon concoctions the likes of which Megatron had never tasted before but found to be extremely appealing to his taste sensors and his tanks all but purred in pleasure at the sensation the drinks brought and how positively they were affecting them. The music was a mix of human and Cybertronain tunes and the master DJ was none other than Soundwave, whom Megatorn had honestly thought lacked the means to express emotions but appeared to be rather content with that gray, orange and yellow former Autobot cassettedeck and their joined cassettes, the two rocking the city with their beat. Megatron remembered Agent 113 telling him that Soundwave was interested in some former Autobot but didn't know how to go about courting the mech, but he seemed to be doing fine at the moment.

They weren't the only mixed couple enjoying the celebrations. Plenty of the dancing couples were of mixed factions or bots from either faction pairing up with Republic mecha. Mechs and femmes, femmes and femmes, mechs and mechs, fliers and grounders, warbuilds and civlianframes, it didn't matter. The high grade and the good music was erasing all barriers and in this one party, no propaganda or prejudices could reach any of the present mecha and they were just enjoying themselves. And, judging from the noises coming from a little further down the main street, the humans had been invited, too, only they were placed far away from lumbering, overcharged, uncoordinated bots and the energon for their own safety. They seemed to be having just as much fun, though the youngest of the humans present were those 'teenagers', the human term for their mechlings. From what he had learned since he landed here, Megatron understood that the humans' youth was not to have their 'alcohol' just like Cybertronians were not meant to drink high grade or energon mixes until reaching mechlinghood.

He took a sip of his drink and looked down to Tailgate when the smaller mech finally stopped talking, just nursing his won drink The white and light blue, blue visored mech had his usual white facemask pulled mack and was slurping on a strange green concoction through a straw, gaze distant. He was so much smaller than Megatron and yet he was the only former Autobot that had dared come to him on his own without Optimus or any of the High Command around to run interference. Sure, Soundwave, Blaster and even Hook were around - he could hear his CMO having an intense argument with some Autobot guest about the likeliness of Corrodia Gravis being mistaken for Cybercrossis or the Cybonic plague - but one was a Decepticon, one was a defector and the third was brought online on Earth so they didn't exactly trust them to be capable of holding Megatron back should he decide he wanted to slag them all. Megatron guessed he could understand. He wouldn't trust others to stop himself, either, especially as the three mentioned had been drinking.

He pulled his attention back to Tailgate and decided he might as well learn _why _he was dragged here in the first place. "What's the occasion?" He gestured at the party when the mech looked up at him in confusion. Tailgate beamed, all too pleased to have an active conversationalist. Megatron wondered at such enthusiasm but decided not to question or comment on it.

"Oh, it's because Autobot Medical Officer Ratchet found out what was really wrong with Skyfire and even has a cure getting ready!" Well, that would explain the celebrations, at least, and the feeling of relief that was practically radiating from all Republic mecha everywhere Megatron went. Seem's Optimus' and Arcee's gamble payed off. "Turns out it wasn't Corrodia Gravis, which explained why even compatible constitution system boost didn't work, no matter how many we managed to find that matched. We thought it might be the age difference, but even my systems didn't help."

"If not Corrodia Gravis," a horrible disease on its own, ensuring a slow and painful death. "Then what was the case? I may not be a medic, but I do know for certain that there aren't many diseases that can be mistaken for it."

"The Cybercrossis," Tailgate shuddered and Megatron felt his won plating crawl with unease. "It somehow developed with old age. He was bound to die soon, had Doctor Ratchet not recognized it. Apparently, a medic from the Deltaran Medical Facility by the name of Pharma had seen a couple of cases like it and had discovered that a certain combination of chemicals reverses the effects. Skyfire will never be battle ready again, but he'll live and he'll fly, so everyone's happy. We were only lucky that Swerve already made concoctions with those very same elements needed and Skyfire could immediately start getting his treatment, or else it would have been too late. Isn't it great?" Tailgate was swinging his stabilizers beneath him as he chatted, once again content to just have someone half-listen to him, ignoring Megatorn's stunned expression. "Skyfire is a very well loved mech here. It wouldn't have been the same without him."

"I take it he has been ill for a long time if the notion of a miraculous cure is cause for such celebration."

"Yeah, for a few hundred stellar cycles now. Now that everyone knows what it was, there's admiration and speculation as to how he had survived this long." Tailgate shrugged, grin disappearing even as he sipped his drink. "People think Optimus was probably behind it, not that I blame him."

"Optimus?" Speaking of the red and blue mech, where _was _he? Megatron hadn't seen him at all and everyone seemed to be out on the streets, celebrating.

"Well, yeah. I mean, who else, right? Only he could do it. Besides, Skyfire has practically been acting like an overprotective sire towards him as long as I have known them. I guess it only makes sense. Between him, Slipstream, Sunstorm and Ramjet, I'm not all that surprised," Tailgate finished his drink and snapped his facemask back into place before looking back up at Megatron, radiating happiness. "Not that anyone minds! We're all just happy that Skyfire will finally be free of all that pain and that he's getting better. Well, Doctor Hook and Doctor Ambulon are a little grumpy to have not noticed it before, but they don't mind as long as their patient survives."

"I see. Well," he said and raised his cube in a small toast. "This is indeed something to celebrate." A cure to Cybercrrosis, one of their deadliest diseases, also found right here, in Metroplex. In peace. He shook his thoughts off. He'd seen enough of Metroplex to know not to be surprised anymore, no matter how weird. And speaking of weird surprises, he arched an optic bridge at his smaller companion. "Though I must inquire as to why you've dragged _me _here. Not that I _mind_, per se, but I am curious."

Tailgate fidgeted, looking away and fumbling with his servos, radiating embarrassment and anxiety. Megatron didn't rush or push him, waiting patiently for the minibot to gather his courage, finishing off his own drink and ordering another. The femme that brought it over was definitely Camian in origin and shot them a curious look that still manged to appear deadpan before going off her own way to get another order. By the time she was gone, Tailgate seemed to have gotten his courage and blurted out a sentence that nearly had Megatron doing a spit-take at its abruptness and absurdity.

"I'm Conjux Endura with Cyclonus!" Luckily enough, the music was too loud and the mecha were too busy celebrating to hear the squeaked confession, but Megatron had been waiting for a response and was close enough to hear it and was trying not to choke on his energon as that would be undignified. He turned incredulous red optics on the minibot, who only continued fidgeting but had an air of determination around himself now as he stared up at the warlord. "I wanted to ask you about my mate."

_That_, Megatron was surely not expecting when a random minibot had dragged him out of the training rooms. He hadn't even known Cyclonus _had _a Conjux Endura. _Strika _probably had no idea her teammate had a Conjux Endura and she was around him every damned day! Pit, most of the Decepticons were sure Cyclonus was some sort of _time traveler_! He was all secretive and mystic and spouted spiritual or apocalyptic nonsense from time to time. Megatron briefly wondered if he was dreaming, if Metroplex itself was a dream, because this was just _absurd_. He had rather expected Tailgate to say he was a Prime of old than that he was Cyclonus _sparkmate_!

_'How is it that this is my life?'_ Megatron couldn't help but wonder to himself before answering Tailgate's question. "I don't really see or speak with him often. All I can tell you is that he is online and fine, though your bond should have been able to tell you as much as well." Organic species may think Cybertronians completely incapable of love or any other emotion and that they didn't make significant relationships between them because they didn't make showy expressions of it out of public bonding rituals or whatever other crazy idea organics had about becoming lifelong partners, but they didn't understand that Cybertronians created _much _deeper bonds than their short-lived minds could comprehend. Two Cybertronians, if bonded, can feel each other with galaxies between them and some of those extremely strong bonds even allow a permanent communication link between them. Organics fantasized about soulmates, but so far only _Cybertronians_ have managed to create such a bond with bearing their sparks to their loved ones. Conjux Endura, Amica Endura, trines, they all created bonds with their sparks. The Quintessons had once tried to abuse this intimate bond by trying to enslave them through the process of adding slave coding into their systems, but a bond created like that was fragile even if the harmonics aligned and were extremely compatible. In the end, the only known species to have _any_ sort of _real_ contact with the 'soul' were Cybertronians. Eat your little fleshy blood pumps out, pathetic organics! "He is part of Team Chaar, Strika's team."

Tailgate's visor dimmed a little in disappointment and he tipped his helm downwards. "Oh." And he sounded so pathetically dejected that Megatron found himself wondering whether he should pat the bot on the shoulder in comfort but found the notion too awkward. He'd never had need to comfort someone before. Warbuilds, and especially higher ranking Decepticons that he was usually surrounded by, were all very prideful and would rather suffer on their own than receive any form or notion of comfort. Maybe it was his last few decacycles in Metroplex, maybe it was his weary spark or maybe it was just the high grade, but he suddenly found the notion rather unpleasant and lonely. Thankfully, Tailgate perked up before he could contemplate just how close to insanity he was or whether there was something in his high grade, distracting the warlord with more questions about what he _did_ know of Cyclonus in the past ... _six million stellar cycles_!?

Turns out, Tailgate was only several orns younger than Cyclonus and the two had accidentally started the courting rituals long before the Great War. They had finally bonded about the time Megatron was brought online, but not too long after, an incident ended with Tailgate being put into forced stasis and his pod being launched right off of Cybertron. The reason? Because warbuilds were of a lower caste and the government couldn't have those two putting ideas into younger bots' processors. They had apparently tried offlining them both at some point before that but Cyclonus and Tailgate both had thwarted them time and again until they finally caught the minibot alone and sent him off before dragging Cyclonus into the gutters with the rest of the warframes, destined to spend his entire function thinking he will never see his Conjux Endura ever again while he practically slaves away in the slag pits of Tarn.

Now Megatron understood why Cyclonus was always so pessimistic and always spoke of an apocalypse. It would probably be preferred over not knowing where his mate was despite still feeling him to be online. Cyclonus had one day come to Megatron, out of the blue, while the Decepticon movement was nothing more than his rhetorics to the crowds of Kaon and his fellow gladiators. That was only two orns after Tailgate was jettisoned off of Cybertron and out of his reach forever. Cyclonus had promised his undying loyalty to Megatron if he is to be freed from his flightlocks and a brighter future for their kind is the reason they fight. Megatron had always assumed 'their kind' meant warframes, not Cybertronians as a whole.

Cyclonus deserved far more to find Metroplex more than Megatron had. Megatron wanted to leave. Megatron wanted to return to their bloody war, to continue sending his soldiers to their deaths. Megatron had only desperation to hold on to. Cyclonus had a _mate_.

Megatron was ready to leave a mech he was interested in behind because he knew he couldn't drag Optimus into their war.

He looked around at the cheerful mecha surrounding him and, for the first time since he realized Metroplex wasn't some sort of devious trap made by a clever manipulating tyrant, Megatron recognized just how much he _didn't belong_. He stood out like a sore thumb, for even the Autobots that were planning to return to their faction were dancing and mingling with his still loyal Decepticons. If only for tonight, _none_ of them were enemies. They were just mechs and femmes that had this way or that found themselves in Optimus Prime's care until they were ready to leave, if they hadn't decide to stay already. Megatron still saw potential enemies, even in the permanent citizens of the Independent Cybertronian Republic of Earth. Even now, relaxed and a bit charged from the drinks he had consumed, he still expected an attack. He didn't belong here. He didn't _deserve_ to _be_ here, let alone _stay_.

He should leave. That was the only reasonable thing he could do. As it was, he might even present a danger to this world of peace, to this safe harbor for their species. Hadn't Starscream been a good enough lesson? The power hungry seeker had only come to Earth because _Megatron_ had attacked the Autobots' ship. Sure, he had thought they had the AllSpark, but that was no excuse. His determination to get it had only further convinced Starscream that they had it, which had brought his former Second in Command to Earth. The damage was mostly fixed by now, only one more bridge remaining, but they had been _lucky_. What if Starscream hadn't come alone? There were sure to be casualties if an incident like that were to repeat. The Autobots he had arrived with had nearly become said casualties themselves, last time, and the humans had also nearly perished.

He should leave. It was the right thing to do and yet ...

Megatron cast a glance at Tailgate, who seemed so much happier now that Megatron had told him _something_ of Cyclonus, and his mind couldn't help but wander to a different grounder that had never shown any fear of wariness of him. How he longed to hold that tantalizing red, blue and silver frame close, to test whether he could really wrap his servo around that trim, slim waist like it appeared, to steal those plush blue lip plates, to win that gentle, caring, _wonderful_ spark.

He didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve Optimus Prime, or little Onyxflame and Galvatron. He didn't deserve to stay in Metroplex, to continue endangering this young species that had opened its doors for Cybertronians without seemingly a second thought. He didn't deserve it ...

And yet ...

He turned back to Tailgate and started telling him about the gladiatorial matches he'd seen Cyclonus participate in, promising himself he will tell his loyal soldier where his sparkmate was as soon as he returns.

00000

The metal plates under his servos pulsed and vibrated, breaking him out of his meditative state, bringing him back into the real world, chestplates snapping closed. He looked around and found that he was still alone and that there were no sirens flashing anywhere, which meant this was a silent, private alarm meant only for him. Which could only mean one thing.

Optimus Prime stood up, preparing for the inevitable.

It would seem his past was finally catching up to him.


	21. Chapter 21

**Thief**

**Summary: Ancient cities and artifacts of great power don't just disappear on their own! The number of defections rises. A group of washouts and a warlord wind up on a world unlike any they've seen before and the leader is interesting enough. Peace. Equallity. And no factions, put your weapons down, Primus damn it!**

It took a few days but eventually it finally happened. A blue and silver ship entered Earth's atmosphere without answering the hails from the Moon base, heading straight for Detroit and landing in the middle of the park. The Detroit Police Department was instantly on the scene, Barricade and Prowl remaining in alt mode just like everybot else that worked with humans in the department, facing the entrance of the ship and waiting for _something_ to happen. Prowl had commed both Optimus and Ratchet, but it was the medic, Bumblebee, Bulkhead and Sari that arrived first, though Optimus assured him he wasn't far behind, only securing Metroplex's citizens and guests in case things went south. By the time Optimus was walking through the gathering of policemen, Prowl had transformed back to root mode and the hanger bay was opening to reveal five bots, one of whom the space bridge repair crew could have gone without ever seeing again. Ratchet, Bumblebee and Bulkhead still fell into a salute for their supreme commander, as per their military (complete or not) training, while Prowl fell to Optimus' side as naturally as any of the other Republic mecha. He was acting as their representative right now. Optimus didn't want the Elite Guard any wiser about the true nature of Earth for as long as he can help it. Sari landed beside Captain Fanzone and watched, as warily as the other humans were, the proceedings.

"Ultra Magnus, sir," Ratchet spoke first, sounding respectful yet hollow, like his spark wasn't into it but at least he was keeping his grumpiness and displeasure with the situation hidden well enough. He had been in the middle of checking up on Skyfire to see his condition now that he was getting the right treatment when Prowl had commed them all about the arrival of the Elite Guard. Had this happened a little over a month ago, he would have been relieved and maybe even _glad_ that they were finally going to be rescued. Only they already _had_ been rescued and Bumblebee and Bulkhead seemed to be more and more determined each day to follow in Prowl's pedesteps and stay on Earth. Quite frankly, after seeing how even _Omega_ was being treated since they got here, Ratchet wasn't very fond of the idea of leaving Metroplex, either. Arcee was here. _Drift_ was here. He wasn't exactly eager to leave his new practice and his patients behind and _especially_ this serenity he had found here. If he was welcome, which he _was_, he would like to stay. And he remembered _well_ what they had all been told that very first day: as long as guests don't go blabbering to their superiors about the Independent Cybertronian Republic, they are always welcome to return. "Welcome to Earth. We weren't-"

"Jazz," the biggest bot, blue and white in color with a stern expression on his faceplate, interrupted, optics never straying from the gathered crowd of organics. "Set up a forcefield to quarantine us from the organics."

"You sure that's necessary, Commander?" A much smaller white bot with a visor asked, looking at the humans behind the space bridge repair crew. "I'd like to get a closer look."

"You might feel differently when the slime they spew out melts through your armor plating and rots your circuits from the inside." The humans and their masked partners, as well as Prowl and Sari, all saw when Optimus stiffened upon the big chinned blue and orange bot speaking, looking with disgust at the Earthlings. The other two bots, a light blue racer and none other than the gaudy orange Topheat, blanched and Jazz panicked a little and activated the shield. The humans protested and pulled back the line a few feet, just to be sure, as the shimmering forcefield descended around the Steelhaven and the bots in front of it and Sari tried to fly over to her friends, only to slam into the shield.

Ultra Magnus nodded in approval before finally turning to look at the assembled bots. "Now that that has been taken care of-" But he broke off as, suddenly, the forcefield wavered and then simply fizzled out of existence, allowing Sari to fly in and firmly place herself in Prowl's servos, battlemask snapped in place and glaring at the Autobots. They all looked confused as hell and tried to figure out what was going on when the sound of a subspace compartment opening was heard and they all turned in the direction of the sound, only to stare as Optimus put a strange orb into it and close it with an air of nonchalance. Ultra Magnus reeled in shock at seeing him after all these stellar cycles, a bot they had all declared offline because there was no sign of him for the last one thousand and fifty stellar cycles. The Autobot Commander couldn't quite believe his optics. "Cadet Optimus? What are you doing here?"

"Optimus _Prime_, and hello to you, too, Ultra Magnus." Optimus replied with the same nonchalance in his voice as he casually racked his optics over the gathered group, lingering on the slack-jawed Sentinel Prime for a moment before looking back to his former Commander. "Welcome to my planet. How can we help you?" Although, to be _quite_ honest, he didn't sound awfully eager to help.

Sentinel finally snapped out of his trance and gave a half glare, half sharp, insincere grin at the former Academy bot. "Optimus, old buddy! Long time no see! Finally hanging out with riffraff like yourself? It's good that you've learned your place!" He studied his once friend and frowned at the patterns on his paint that resembled liquid fire dancing over his frame and some sort of glyphs etched into the plating that he couldn't seem to grasp the meaning of, optics flicking over Optimus' stance of easy confidence and the changed crest on his forehelm. He frowned deeper when Optimus didn't seem to react beyond arching an optic bridge with a bland "Sentinel," in return before he focused back on the shocked Magnus.

But before the Autobot Supreme Commander could react, let alone _say_ anything, the sky blue speedster beat him to it. "Wait did you just say _your_ planet pardon my interruption, Ultra Magnus, sir, but he _did_ and he called himself a Prime but from what _I_ know of the incident from a thousand and fifty stellar cycles ago the bot that disappeared was an Autobot Academy washout with no military rank due to the tragedy of Archa 7 and most certainly one of the Elite Guard's Primes so why did you call yourself a Prime, Optimus, who gave you the rank how and why are you here and how are you involved, if at all, in the Primal Basilica Raid why did you disappear and why on that night do you know anything about it were you kidnapped or were you an active participant how did you end up here?"

The gathered mecha, humans and techno-organic could all only blink or reset their optics when the tirade was over, staring at the speedster with incredulity. Now, Optimus had seen a _lot_ of strange code mutations - glitches, as some may pessimistically call them - over the last one thousand stellar cycles, but he was sure he had _never_ encountered one quite like this. He looked at the speedster a bit closer and filed him away as a speedster, one that he had _very_ little doubt could _easily_ outrace Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, and those two were hell to catch as it was. "I'm sorry, um ... ?"

"Intelligence Agent Blurr of the Elite Guard," Blurr said and even gave a small, swift salute before returning to looking at Optimus suspiciously. An Intelligence Agent. Right. And one with this speed. Optimus immediately commed Soundwave and had him closing all roads that led to important or vulnerable positions in Metroplex, knowing his Head of Intelligence is more than capable enough to protect their city.

"Right, Agent Blurr. Could you please repeat that, just a _little_ bit slower so I know for sure which questions I am answering?" Blurr slumped a little but did as asked and Optimus arched an optic ridge at the questions. "Yes, I did indeed say _my_ planet. Earth is under my protection and under my authority. Its inhabitants are my people and I protect them. And yes, I _do_ call myself _Optimus Prime_. I am an Academy washout and yes, it is because of Archa 7, but that makes me no less of a Prime. I'm not a part of the Elite Guard-"

"Thank _Primus_ for that," grumbled Barricade from beside Fanzone and the Police Captain shushed him. Only Jazz seemed to notice the interaction, but at least he didn't say anything. Yet. Prowl recognized him as a fellow cyberninja. He had seen Jazz's bust in Master Yoketron's hall of students who had finished their training. It would make sense he would notice. It would only make sense for a Cyberninja to be a part of Ultra Magnus' personal team.

"And I don't have rank. No, I wasn't kidnapped. I left because I realized I didn't belong, that I was _suffocating_, because I knew I couldn't live like that. I left that night because I had to. If I had stayed, I would have never had a chance to leave again, not without someone going after me to follow me and if someone _was_, I wouldn't have ever managed to come to Earth and live a real _life_ here."

Blurr frowned and crossed his servos over his chassis, glaring at the taller colorful bot. "And my other questions?"

"Require answers I can only give certain mechs and, unfortunately, you are not one of them." Which, the Republic's mecha and the humans, knew meant them. "You are currently only my guests. Only permanent citizens get to know the answers to those questions."

"That makes absolutely no sense how do you know someone will stay a citizen after you answer their questions and _why_-"

"That's quite enough, Agent Blurr," Ultra Magnus interrupted, apparently finally having recovered enough of his composure to participate in this conversation again. "This isn't why we're here."

"Sorry, sir," the speedster replied and shut up, making Optimus frown in displeasure as he was faced with what would have been his own reality, forced to follow orders even when his instincts demanded otherwise, had he not left when he had. He still regretted leaving Ratchet, Bulkhead and Bumblebee to an incompetent commanding officer, but the Republic was needed more than a good leader for a single space bridge repair crew. It didn't lessen his guilt by an iota, but his sparkchamber felt warm and his spark itself was content.

"Then why _are_ you here?" He asked, optics falling to the last mech in their company. He didn't recognize him, which wasn't too big of a deal. The mech was battered, though, like he had recently wrestled an Insecticon and hadn't been provided with adequate medical care. One of his optics kept flickering, cracked, and his leg was in a brace. "Do you need to be seen by a medic?"

The mech sneered at the offer, but the Magnus answered for him. "Topheat can be looked over by Medical Officer Ratchet on our way back to Cybertron-"

"Only one problem with that, sir," Ratchet interrupted, shocking the newly arrived Autobots with his rudeness. "I'm not _going_ back to Cybertron. I found I rather like it here." And then, to the shock of his own teammates, he met Optimus' optics with grim determination as he took off his badge then marched over to the Autobot Supreme commander and extended his servo as if to hand it over. Just as the shocked Ultra Magnus reached out for it, Ratchet let it fall to the ground with an entirelly unsencire "Oops," before swaggering over to Optimus other side, highfiving Sari when she flew over and offered it with delight in her small EM field. Bumblebee shook the shock off and gleefully ripped his own off and bounded over to Optimus as well, also getting a high five from Sari and Bulkhead was quick to follow. Optimus was left to watch in stunned amusement as the Elite Guard gawked at this collective defection.

Barricade may or may not have cheered and Franzy had _definitely_ filmed it all and put it on the Metroplex extranet for everyone to see. Ratchet was already getting excited pings from Drift, some of which very nearly made him blush.

Ultra Magnus needed another few kliks to get his jaw off the ground before he could speak again. "Medical Officer Ratchet, I must ask _why_. You've been a loyal Autobot for all these stellar cycles, so why defect _now_?"

"When a bot finds peace, Magnus, they usually aren't very eager to go back to war," was all the ambulance said before Sentinel's fuse finally broke and he marched right up to Optimus, getting in his faceplates and yelling at the top of his vents.

"This is all _your_ fault! I always knew it was too good to be true that you were offline! Instead, you've been on some _pathetic_ organic world, filling the audios of good for nothing bots like _them_ with your poisonous _slag_ and weakening the Autobot army! You good for nothing, traitorous gli-"

Before he could continue, the sound of several transformation sequences filled the air and Sentinel fell silent as his plating started rattling against his protoform when Barricade marched over, red optics gleaming with aggression, looking ready to rip the dark blue and orange bot apart with his fellow enforcers, formerly from both factions, looking quite eager to help him defend their Prime from Sentinel, be it from his words or the digit too close to Optimus' face for any of their comfort. Sentinel gulped and backed off when the enforcer all but loomed over him. Smaller than a regular warframe he might be, Barricade was still significantly taller than your ordinary Autobot. His red optics and heavy EM field gave away the truth behind his origin even if his size wasn't indication enough. His weapon systems hummed loudly enough for even the humans to hear and Franzy called encouragements from where he had draped himself around Fanzone's shoulders like some sort of deranged, metallic scarf, when Optimus put a servo over his forearms, gently urging him to lower his arms.

"That won't be necessary, Barricade." The police car grumbled but didn't oppose Optimus subtle order and instead just crossed his servos as he stood at Optimus back now, as if he were a chassisguard. Optimus didn't say anything about it and instead focused on the Elite Guard. "I would greatly appreciate it if you'd refrain from exercising violence of any kind while here on Earth. It's not our way and if you decide to ignore this request, we won't be responsible for where you are jettisoned."

"Traitor!" Topheat yelled, pointing a finger at him before rounding on the newly defected former Autobots. "All of you are filthy traitors! I _told_ you, sir," he looked up at the blue and white bot. "I _knew_ they were in allegiance with the Cons! This is likely some secret Decepticon colony!"

"Do you _see_ a faction symbol anywhere?" Barricade rumbled, making Topheat flinch and hide behind Blurr, who looked at him with something akin to disgust before sprinting away from him to the other side of Ultra Magnus, who still looked like he didn't know how to deal with all of this. For once, he was completely out of his depth and was looking at Optimus as though he were something new and inexplainable. Not that he _wasn't_. The now former Autobots have been here well over a month, almost two by now, and they _still_ had very little idea of what to make of Optimus Prime. Only Prowl was fully in the know. Ratchet, Bumblebee and Bulkhead will have to wait another month and a half, almost two months, before they could get in on the secrets of Metroplex and the Republic.

Optimus sighed and looked Ultra Magnus in the optics. "Do you need anything or can you just leave since it seems you have no one to retrieve?"

"You will _not_ speak to your Commander with such disrespect, _washout_!" Sentinel, through stupidity or some newly gathered bravery that hadn't been there before until he got a chance to yell at Optimus, snapped in his best commanding voice. The red and blue neutral, though, only arched an optic ridge at him and gestured at his person as a whole.

"Do you _see_ an Autobot badge on me, Sentinel? I'm not an Autobot."

"He's still your superior and your better! He's the supreme leader of Cybertron!" The big-chinned fool insisted, copying Barricade's stance with smug superiority. "You're just a traitor, a _nobody_."

"Ah, yes. Ultra Magnus _is_ the supreme leader of the Autobot Commonwealth, that is Cybertron and its colonies," Optimus nodded sagely but showed no signs of respect or bowing to Sentinel's posturing. "Just like _I_ am the leader of the Independent Cybertronian Republic of Earth, which holds this whole _galaxy_ within its boarders. Ultra Magnus is superior to me only in age and that didn't seem to grant him the wisdom to save his people from the energon shortage you are currently suffering." He paused to delight in the unhinged jaws that clattered to the floor at his blunt and bold sudden statement, only barely repressing a smirk. He took a quick picture of their flabbergasted faces for Elita, for he knew she will _greatly_ enjoy them. The amused ping of hilarity he got from her within seconds of sending the picture proved him right and it was even harder than before to hold back his smirk. But this really wasn't the time to be indulging in their private humor. He needed to get the Elite Guard _out_ of here, off of Earth, as soon as possible. The more they are tempted to stay, the more likely it is for a war to break out right on the streets of Detroit and Metroplex between the present still Autobots and still Decepticons. Soundwave was watching Megatron in HQ and the warlord didn't seem at all tempted to endanger his own continued stay at Metroplex for the opportunity to surprise Ultra Magnus enough to offline him, but that didn't mean _other_ Decepticons won't take the chance. Thank _Primus_ Starscream was in Sector 7. His impulsiveness and lust for power, especially _Megatron's_ power, would have left devastating consequences. Metroplex was _never_ to see war. Optimus had vowed he would never allow it. Which meant the Elite Guard, who aren't here for treatment or because they need some form of help, had to go. "I don't have time for childish games. What do you want?"

That seemed to snap _everyone_ out of whatever shock had gripped them when Optimus had so casually announced that the existence of the Independent Cybertronian Republic was not only _real_ but was stationed right _here_, on _Earth_ after he had expressed his desire for it to be kept a secret. Optimus _knew_ it couldn't be kept a secret as soon as the enforcers came to his somewhat 'rescue'. If he didn't say it outright, Ultra Magnus would figure it out on his own and will have the chance to prepare for something that might make more problems than it was worth. It was for the best in the long run. At least they can deal with the fallout now, while it's 'localized', instead of waiting for the Elite Guard to screw them over.

And so Optimus was perfectly prepared for it when the expected "WHAT!?" came.

He knew this was going to be a _long_ day.


	22. Chapter 22

**Thief**

**Summary: Ancient cities and artifacts of great power don't just disappear on their own! The number of defections rises. A group of washouts and a warlord wind up on a world unlike any they've seen before and the leader is interesting enough. Peace. Equallity. And no factions, put your weapons down, Primus damn it!**

"WHAT!?"

"You heard me. I won't repeat myself," Optimus huffed, crossing his servos over his chassis and trying to ignore the snickers that only he could hear. Now was not the time to indulge the voices as he had an entire galaxy's future to think about. There were too many lives riding on how he deals with these bots for him to let himself immerse in their jokes and join in on their humor. Perhaps he can participate later, but now he had to stay focused. Especially since Sentinel seemed ready for round three. He never learned.

For a moment, Optimus wondered if he should have brought Dominus with him. Sentinel surely wouldn't dare say anything then and this would be going along a lot more smoothly. Or Elita. Yep, Elita would have been a marvelous choice, only, chances were, she'd try to gauge out Sentinel's and the Magnus' optics on sight and that was just bad manners.

The voices snickered again and he ignored them expertly. One thousand and fifty stellar cycles was more than enough experience for him to deal with them and their random comments.

"The Independent Cybertronian Republic is just a rumor, a myth lazy and irresponsible soldiers make up when they disappear off the grid to go indulge in high grade or oil instead of reporting for duty," Sentinel, as soon as he regained his composure upon hearing Optimus' sassy response, said with all the certainty of someone who thought they had absorbed all the knowledge and wisdom in the universe, haughtily lifting his impressive chin. "And who would make _you_, a failure and a washout, their _leader_? Are you brainwashing bots now, Optimus? Or are you preying on the bots of weak processor and empty helms?"

Optimus arched an optic ridge for who knows which time in just this conversation as he replied, a little insulted by Sentinel's callous claims. "Seeing as you're standing in its capitol, I'd say the Depublic is very much real and not a rumor, myth _or_ urban legend. We are a very hospitable sort, if that's what you were insinuating about high grade and oil. And seeing as I was to become a Prime even if I _hadn't_ decided to leave Cybertron one thousand and fifty stellar cycles ago, I'd ask you to refrain from questioning my leadership. I created the Republic for bots like me who were sick of the conflict between Autobots and Decepticons. I _dare_ you to call any of them weak-minded or hollow-helmed to their faces, though. Because between Branstorm, Nickle, Velocity, Nautica and Ariel, as well as Dominus Ambus and numerous others, we have enough brain power to rival Perceptor, Wheeljack and all of Cybertron's current leading scientists _or_ Shockwave and Starscream of the Decepticons."

"Is it true that you have a seat in the Galactic Council?" Jazz asked curiously before Sentinel could comment something else and just shrugged when the tow truck turned to glare at him. "Just curious."

Optimus smiled at the white ninjabot, alerting Drift that there's someone he should personally keep an optic on. Crosshairs will do for Blurr. Unless the racer can run at the speed of light, Crosshairs will be able to bring him down if it ever came to that. Topheat didn't look like much - and didn't sound like it, either, from Prowl's and Ratchet's stories - of a threat, so anyone can keep him in line if he tries something and there were plenty of former Decepticons here who could take on Sentinel. Some former Autobots, too, who would be right eager to give him.a peace of their mind. Optimus wondered how Smokescreen and Strongarm might react to him. He already knew Slipstream was a no-go for Sentinel. The seeker femme was sure to launch him into orbit and watch gleefully as he crashed and burned down upon reentry. He should probably keep an optic on her in case those two meet. He wouldn't want to be forced to put her in Sector 7 or, worse yet, banish her if she causes too much trouble.

"Yes, it is true that we have a seat in the Galactic Council. We have for a while now. In fact, most of the _rumors_ about the Republic are very much true, before you ask."

"But if you really don't have factions, why call yourself a Prime?" Blurr challenged, eying the gathered mechs suspiciously. He looked ready to be gone in the blink of an eye, Optimus noted. So, he was either a jittery type or a smart bot. He obviously knew that there _had_ to he more to all of this than meets the eye. After all, an enforcer squadron had been right in front of them and they had never noticed until Barricade and his colleagues had transformed. Due to the signal dampeners, created by Professor Sumdac, no doubt. It helped when they wanted to avoid detection. Everyone had one, they just had to engage it with a mere burst of code. Blurr realized that there might be more Republic bots around and wasn't sure what their chances were to get out of this in one piece. Intelligence Agents are trained for quick situation evaluations and decision making. The data they carry can either make or break their cause and so, if they feel they will be overwhelmed, their training dictated they are to extract themselves from the situation as soon and as quickly as possible. Judging from what Optimus remembered of Autobot Intelligence officers' paranoia, Blurr will be out of here in a few minutes if the situation gets any more bizarre or tense.

He was tempted to let it happen. In fact, his chest _warmed_ at the idea, for he knew the Elite Guard will write Blurr off as MIA in record time if he runs off on an organic world. They'll leave him behind, which will allow for an opportunity for one more mech to be spared the slow extinction taking place outside of the Independent Cybertronian Republic. His spark _sang_ at the prospect, even though it was a lot like manipulation and Optimus' morals didn't quite agree with the method. The goal does _not_ justify the means. Not now, not _ever_.

"Because I like it," Optimus replied shortly, knowing that trying to come up with some other justification is useless, especially if he _really_ does give in to the temptation to keep Blurr here. He doesn't want some of his first words to a possible new citizen to be lies. He has always been fully truthful with everyone who had ever joined his community. Sure, some things regarding his own person had to be kept secret until the bots were one hundred percent sure they wanted to stay, but those were security precautions. _Every_ community had their secrets _only_ members of said community are privy to. Optimus didn't feel guilty that the secrets of Metroplex were mostly only regarding himself.

"That's not a good reason," the sky blue racer pointed out, humphing as he placed his servos on his hips, never taking his optics off of the Prime. Optimus smiled and he wasn't sure how sharp it had turned out, but he hoped it was at least a _little_ bit sardonic.

"It's as good a reason as any. I'll ask you one last time, what are you doing here? What do you want?" He made sure to infuse into his town his dwindling patience, though he had an infinite amount of it in reality. He had to, in order to deal with the more mischievous or reckless of his citizens. Between the biweekly explosions in the science labs, the occasional incidents with the Dinobots, temperamental medics, incidents in the training rooms or target practice, the races and the arm-wrestling matches, the silly human villains they sometimes had to deal with, Lockdown's or Swindle's random visits and Swerve's crazy concoctions, he had his servos full. He was _very_ practiced in excreting patience. Not that the Elite Guard needed to _know_ that. It was none of their business. It was, in fact, best for everyone if they thought he had next to no patience. It will ensure they don't try to play political games. They _do not_ want to meet the Republic's 'politicians'. Optimus wouldn't sick 'em on his worst enemy. Especially the ones that usually deal with the Quintessons if he himself is unavailable.

Praxians are a scary sort when they want to be.

Ultra Magnus, thankfully, seems to have caught on to his less and less agreeable mood and finally rejoined the conversation. For a moment there, Optimus was starting to think that Magnus had lost his edge if _Sentinel_ did all the talking _for_ him. That was a recipe for sure political disaster. It only spoke of how stupefied Magnus was to see one of his former almost protégés come into his own without his help, on an alien planet amongst a bunch of neutrals and organics. Optimus didn't know whether to be flattered or offended by that amount of surprise. He had always been a stellar student at the Academy. He even had the best grades in its history! He had been a model cadet, until that day on Archa 7. That, however, didn't diminish his prior accomplishments any, no matter what Sentinel thought. He was as much to blame as Optimus was for what happened to Elita One, but at least Optimus had went back for her! At least he had had the guts to take responsibility!

At least he had stayed true to himself and that's what really mattered, at the end of the day.

"We received an emergency transmission from the Orion that they were under Decepticon attack and deployed a squadron to assist them. They showed readings of AllSpark energy, so we managed to triangulate their location but we arrived too late. Only Topheat's emergency escape vessel was left and there was no sign of the Orion anywhere, though we _did_ find debris of a Deceoticon warship. We followed the beacon as best as we could, hut then it stopped giving out a signal and we feared all was lost but we didn't allow it to dishearten us and so we found ourselves in this remote part of the universe and on your planet, where the beacon seemed to have last been while giving out the signal. We naturally came down to investigate. You can imagine our relief to find our lost Autobot comrades, Cadet Optimus-"

"That's _Optimus Prime_, if you don't mind," said bot interrupted and Ultra Magnus reset his optics in renewed surprise for Optimus had _always_ been nothing but deeply respectful. He obviously wasn't used to this type of behavior from Optimus, even though it had been over a thousand stellar cycles since the last time they had been faceplate to faceplate.

"Of course," the bigger grounder amended. "Forgive me ... Optimus Prime. It appears I am yet to accept that you are indeed not lost to us, as I have feared all these stellar cycles. You have always been the most promising-"

"Okay, cut the slag and just tell me what you want before I turn around and let you deal with the combined forces of Dominus, Soundwave and Ariel. Believe me when I say that's not a situation you want to find yourself in." He cut in again, feeling rather frustrated by the speech that was supposed to do, what, exactly? Cause guilt? The only guilt he had ever had regarding leaving Cybertrin had resolved itself breems earlier, when his-should-have-been-team had ripped off their badges and joined the Republic. He had felt sorrow for leaving his planet and so many of his people to the fate they were currently suffering, but he had known from the very first day that this was the only way to ensure the survival of their species. If they won't end the war, Optimus will create a bubble for their people where it couldn't reach them and those who wished to stop fighting were more than welcome to stay forever. He knows he could have done better, but given what he had to work with, he had done a great job. If their race were to die out tomorrow in the war, the Republic had more than enough mecha that, should they return to Cybertron, they would be enough to rebuild their home world and their society. Seeing as he had started all alone on this journey, he considered that he had done a bang up job.

He had been a leader in his own right, by himself, independent of any other bot or organization or stare, for one thousand and fifty stellar cycles. He had managed to create a peaceful society for _all_ mechs, no matter their past, their frames or their ideals. As long as it was peace they desired, they had a place to belong. No one was starving, everyone had equal rights, had access to medical care and education, his people were _thriving_ under his careful care and he had even secured the support of the Galactic Council should dark days ever come. The Independent Cybertronian Republic was as close to an ideal state as states will ever get. He had promised freedom and equality and he had kept that promise.

He wasn't going to let Ultra Magnus, or anyone else for that matter, feed him slag and propaganda after he had seen and _experienced_ what their people were going through. The idealistic, naive cadet Ultra Magnus was used to has extinguished the night Optimus had stepped into the Primal Basilica, a millennium ago. Optimus Prime is a whole different mech.

Ultra Magnus contemplated him for a moment before conceding. Ariel and Soundwave were unknown names to him but he no doubt knew who Dominus Ambus was. He must have given up on being surprised anymore, because he didn't react to the information that Agent 113 of the Decepticon Justice Division is on the same planet as him. "Very well. I guess I shall be direct, then."

"Please do." The Autobot Commander frowned at him but Optimus only smiled. It wasn't a very pleasant smile. Elita called it beastly. Fitting, as he had learned it from Dominus himself. He used it whenever he was trying to get on someone's nerves or make them uncomfortable. The turbofox beastformer greatly approved.

"Our scanners have picked up strong energon readings throughout this whole solar system," the blue and white said at length, tensing when the enforcers shifted their weight from one pede to the other. Optimus didn't have to look over his shoulder to see the lot of them glaring at Magnus. "The greatest concentration seems to be here, on Sol 3."

"Earth," Prime corrected him, crossing his arms in a clear show of impatience and disapproval, a move he had perfected since Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were brought online.

"We glimpsed your city, Cade- Optimus Prime," the older bot corrected himself so Optimus wouldn't have the pleasure to. "We have also detected that it harbors an energy signature _very_ similar to the AllSpark's." Now Optimus was the one to tense and this caused the mecha around him to tense, too. Soundwave commed him and asked if he needed backup. Optimus declined but he and Blaster remained on stand by. Drift and Crosshairs pinged him that they were in position. Optimus told them to hold. They will _not_ be the first to draw their weapons. "We have come to reclaim the AllSpark and return it to Cybertron, where it belongs, in the name of the Autobot cause."

Thunder rolled overhead in the quickly gathering clouds above Detroit. The neutrals all grew tense, the former Decepticons barely concealing flinches and winces as they recalled what the Magnus Hammer had done to them and their comrades. Blurr looked ready to bolt. Optimus felt his battle protocols come blazingly alive and static raced over his own frame as his own weapon crackled with restrained power in response. He had a feeling he knew what was coming.

He _hated_ that he was right when he saw Ultra Magnus and Jazz subtly fall into a somewhat fighting stance while Sentinel didn't bother with subtlety at all. He just engaged his energon lance and shield and closed down his battlemask, readying to charge at the first given opportunity. Optimus' servo clenched in frustration before unclenching so he can be ready for any sort of attack. He was currently unarmed, all of his weapons in his subspace, but that didn't mean he was defenseless. The three weapons currently in his subspace will do, whatever may come his way, and two of them will act with little to no conscious thought from him. It was the reason why he had taken them. One was best for defense while the other can do both. His ax was in case he had a chance to preserve the Republic's, and his own outside of it, greatest secret. The chances of that looked slimmer by the nanoklik. He knew the next words that would leave Ultra Magnus' intake even before he said them.

"At any cost. Give us the AllSpark without incident and you and your ... organic planet may remain in peace."

Optimus sent an apology to all his citizens and even looked at the humans with regret. They understood and nodded at him, preparing for the fallout that was sure to come. The red and blue mech turned back to look at the Elite Guard and stood to his full height, stance strong and confident. His chest was warm with support. Not all too far away, Metroplex shuddered and all the bots present got grim expressions on their faces. Optimus could feel it in his spark and something a lot like boiling rage swirled in his spark. Metroplex always felt like peace. He didn't like the resigned unease he could sense now.

"I'm afraid we can't do that, Magnus."

Ultra Magnus actually looked regretful. "So be it. You leave me no choice. If you won't hand over the AllSpark willingly, then we shall have to take it by force. It _cannot_ fall into Decepticon hands and I fear you have been compromised." The Hammer in his servo lit up like a Christmas tree and Optimus snapped his battlemask in place. "I wish it didn't have to be this way. You have always showed such promise, such potential, but you are wrong in this. The AllSpark _must_ be returned to Cybertron." He shook his head in sorrow and Optimus grit his dentae to stop himself from cursing the old commander. He was wrong. Oh so very wrong if he thought Optimus was making a mistake by standing on the side of all Cybertronians. The war had taken its toil. Ultra Magnus no longer saw the potential for peace. "I am sorry for this, Optimus. I hope you will understand."

And a bolt of lightning shot from the sky and nailed the Prime with blinding light.


	23. Chapter 23

**Thief**

**Summary: Ancient cities and artifacts of great power don't just disappear on their own! The number of defections rises. A group of washouts and a warlord wind up on a world unlike any they've seen before and the leader is interesting enough. Peace. Equallity. And no factions, put your weapons down, Primus damn it!**

Ultra Magnus was not a bot prone to favoritism, but he will not lie and say he didn't have a soft spot for his former cadet, Optimus. The young bot had always fascinated him. So talented, so brilliant and yet so naive, so innocent, so _optimistic_. For a mech whose favorite pastime was to read history datapads, he had somehow managed to retain a hopeful outlook at the war and the conflict between the Autobots and the Decepticons. For all that the Academy taught them how vile and vicious Decepticons could be, he had never shown fear, only fascination towards their enemy.

There had once been a time when Ultra had thought this might be what they _needed_ to end the war, that there _might_ be an end to it. Despite his own doubts, Ultra Magnus had wanted to see this hope through his cadet's optics. So he sat back and watched as Optimus advanced through the Academy.

Kup had been right to let him graduate before his generational peers. Optimus was a fast learner and a quick study. He had mastered three different weapons before he was accepted into the Academy, while most bots at that stage were only just mastering _one_. His entrance exam scores were possibly the best in the past twenty vorns and his military preparation was at the level of a warframe in skill. He, of course, had to stop relying on the basic moves they thought at the Academy. No Decepticon would fall for moves like that, preplanned and poorly executed unless Optimus thought them through. Optimus had potential for growth unlike any he had seen before, both intellectually and where fighting skills were concerned, but he was held back by something not even Kup or Ultra Magnus could discern. He did great at sparing, but that was only because his fellow cadets used the same fighting style as him. Ultra Magnus wondered how good at adaption he would be.

Which was why he looked forward to the Decepticon Simulation Battle test. Rare few have ever passed it with flying colors, even when the simulation was at its lowest setting. Each cadet got a Decepticon picked for them at random, but Ultra had insisted that Cadet Optimus face the one enemy not even Kup or Ultra himself have ever defeated even in stimulated combat. He had ignored the looks he received from Kup and Wheeljack and ordered for the test to proceed. They gave Optimus the same fake briefing as they had everyone else and sat back to watch. The simulation was a corpus of all of their intelligence on how certain more famous Decepticons fought, which allowed them to create a rather accurate AI to test the cadets.

So far, then had never let a cadet face _this_ Decepticon before.

The first ever Decepticon young, idealistic Cadet Optimus laid his innocent optics on was none other than Lord Megatron. Even if it was only a simulation.

The first one ever to _almost_ defeat the simulation of the Decepticon warlord was young, naive Cadet Optimus.

He had lost the fight, in the end, but the score that came out of the simulation had them all staring in disbelief and awe at the numbers. No one had gotten that high a score on an _easier_ opponent, let alone against _Megatron_. Optimus had set a record no one could even come close to, one thousand stellar cycles later, and he had done it against an AI representation of the Champion of Kaon, the Slagmaker of the Gladiatorial Pits. A cadet of only a couple hundred stellar cycles had held out against _Megatron_. Even as he congratulated Optimus and told the young mech that he expected great things of him, Ultra had known his opinion was changing. With a bit more training and maybe some upgrades to bring him to the level with the Decepticons, Optimus might have just what it takes to end their war and in the best way possible for their people: by ending _Megatron_. The gray Decepticon had been a menace for millions of years and his demise will put the Decepticons in disarray as they struggle for power, which in itself will allow for the Autobots to end this war once and for all, in _their_ favor. Optimus was their ticket to victory and he only kept improving.

But then Archa 7 happened and the red and blue bot took all the blame, Sentinel all to happy to place it on his shoulderstruts as well, and Ultra Magnus found his servos to be tied. He had no choice but to kick Optimus out of the Academy and watch that once bright, optimistic young mech walk out of the Council chamber with his helm bowed and shoulders slumped. Ultra Magnus had slumped into his own chair once he reached his office. The incident that had happened was very unfortunate but it had not changed his mind at all regarding former Cadet Optimus. If anything, it reaffirmed it. Yes, you should never leave a comrade behind, but if it's one life verses three, Ultra Magnus couldn't fault him, as he would have made the same choice. Optimus had shown a form of strategic thinking any commander needed, he had shown that he understood the need to think about the greater picture, for all that the incident had happened to only three cadets and not a unit, a squadron or an army. He would still need to be punished, but it didn't sit well with the blue and white bot to see him expelled, not only from the Academy, but from the Autobot military. Sure, he can never join the Elite Guard without finishing the Autobot Academy, but that didn't mean he was lost to the Autobot cause forever, either.

And so Ultra Magnus started pulling strings, reaching out to the one bot he knew didn't have anything better to do and organizing a team of what turned out to be misfits and calling in favors to put Optimus in charge while he was to receive the rank of Prime. A space bridge repair crew was punishment enough. After a few hundred stellar cycles, they can pull Optimus back to go through the Academy again. With his skill and the new motivation not to disappoint since he was given a second chance, Optimus would not disappoint. A bit of rougher experiences will only make a better soldier out of him and a small crew of his own will only make him a better commander. Ultra Magnus saw this is a training exercise, a test, even, and he was sure Optimus would pass it with flying colors.

It might also get him his confidence back, since the loss of Cadet Elita One seems to have crushed it. He ignored how timid and unenthusiastic Optimus seemed to be, since his gratitude at the chance was sincere. He even allowed Optimus a few joors to think on this decision, as the bot asked, and went back to his own duties content, knowing he was not losing a protégé nor the Autobots' hope of finally getting rid of the Decepticon menace. Come next light cycle, Optimus will accept this 'second chance' given to him and will be off and when he comes back the next time, Ultra Magnus will commend on his dedication and graciously offer him a place back in the Academy. All would be well.

But then, when the light cycle finally came, it was not a determined Optimus to-be-Prime that greeted him with his decision. It were reports of the Primal Basilica Raid, how it was somehow mysteriously unsealed and opened and how all the relics and ancient artifacts have been _stolen_. It were reports of the apparent total decimation of the ancient city Astroplex, only a crater left in its place. For half of that solar cycle, he completely forgot about his young protégé and the important decision he should be notified of, until a report arrived that Optimus never made it back to his quarters, that no one knew where he was and that his last known location was the Hall of Records, which he left around the same time as they expect the Basilica to have been raided. He ordered a throughout search of all Cybertron even as his tanks churned with cold dread. He had never before mourned the loss of a single mech like he did the loss of Optimus when all searches turned out futile. Optimus must have been taken by the _Thief_, as the media called the mysterious bot that had dared desecrate the most holy of all of Cybertron's sacred places, and with him possibly the Autobots' only chance of ending this war.

With that hope gone, Ultra will not lie and say he hadn't become a bit cynical and a lot more stern. He put in regulations that belonged more in the days when Decepticons were bombing Iacon from the air than they did in 'peacetime' and he forbade himself to care for his other protégés. It was hard, at times, with young Hot Rod Prime but very easy with Sentinel Prime, as even Ultra Magnus found him insufferable. He continued on as best as he could with the knowledge that he had let the one bot that might have been able to defeat Megatron slip through his digits and soon forced himself not to think about it. He declared Optimus most likely offline after one hundred stellar cycles have passed, just in time for rumors of a new state to reach his audials.

The Independent Cybertronian Republic, a small state with less than two hundred mechs, as the rumors said. Small, well hidden but prosperous and peaceful. Just a rumor. Those rumors kept circulating for stellar cycles and Intelligence finally learned to ignore them.

But then the first mines started drying up and defections started happening left and right. They were few and far in between, but their frequency started growing as there seemed to be less and less energon on Cybertron. Within a couple hundred of stellar cycles, only ten mines on all of Cybertron had any energon deposits left, all the others having dried out almost painfully slowly, but steadily. They still had energon, but they had to start rationing it. Colonies were reporting that the same thing was starting to happen to them, but they still had energon. And then energon fields started producing less crops, the crystals smaller than they have been in the last three vorns, less potent, poorer in minerals. No matter how many they planted, no matter the additives they gave them, the crystals were small and poor and soon they even started losing taste when refined. Oil pools, too, had started drying up, although not nearly as quickly as the energon deposits. Then, one day, the surface of Cybertron started losing the normal amount of heat it usually had, much to the general public's panic and the scientists' utter confusion. That had never happened before. Cybertron's climate was stable! Haden still shone down on them as brightly as ever and yet Cybertron's metal surface temperature continued to drop. Ultra felt like it was one bad thing after the other. The public was already talking about theories that Cybertron was going dark, no matter how many times Perceptor or Wheeljak spoke on the news to dissuade such claims.

And then, finally, two stellar cycles ago, Magnus read the Ministray of Science's report that Cybertron was _dying_ and that, soon enough, it will be uninhabitable. They kept it from the people as best as they could. Pit, their own _Intelligence_ or anyone else, for that matter, didn't know anything about these events. They didn't need mass spread panic. The people were already dissatisfied enough with the rationing of energon and how much of it went to the military. Only Ultra Magnus, Perceptor, Wheeljack, Botanica and Alpha Trion knew anything about the impending crisis and they have so far proved to be insufficient in finding a solution. Alpha Trion even went so far as to say it was unavoidable! Perceptor didn't agree and Botanica chided him for being so pessimistic, but she feared what he said none the less.

The news of the AllSpark being found by the very team Ultra Magnus had wanted to give to Optimus was a heaven sent and he immediately went after it. If anything could save Cybertron, it was the life giving energies of the AllSpark.

He had not expected the AllSpark's energy trail to lead them to the rumored-but-not-a-myth Independent Cybertronisn Republic. He had not expected four defections in the same solar cycle. He had not expected to find so many warframes and civilians standing side by side as allies.

He had definitely not expected to come faceplate to faceplate with Optimus again. Optimus _Prime_, as the younger mech called himself. Oh how much the young mech had changed since his cadet days. He had not expected to find him in leadership, most certainly not of the almost mythological Republic.

He had not expected his resistance and defiance.

He had not expected to need to strike him down, but Cybertron came first. Cybertron will go dark without the AllSpark. By standing in his way, Optimus had declared himself an enemy of the Autobot Commonwealth and as such Ultra Magnus had to go through him. A single strike of lightning from the Magnus Hammer will ensure a swift enough deactivation and he will finally be able to force himself to move on from his old hopes of Optimus bringing them victory. The AllSpark will do just as well, if not better.

He had not expected the strike of lightning to have no effect on Optimus whatsoever. Ultra had never seen someone stand up to its power. Decepticons three times his own size have fallen to its electrical attacks, their circuits fried, their optics popping out, their sparks overloading and their frames crumbling into smoking heaps of burnt metal, and yet here Optimus was, the electricity washing over his frame and he made not even a sound of discomfort nor did he pull a pained expression. He just stood there and took it and just when Ultra had thought nothing could surprise him on this planet anymore, _this _happens. He tried upping the voltage, but the results were the same. He could do nothing but stare, the electricity dying out as he lost focus.

Optimus' optics blazed in the wake of the attack but his frame was perfectly fine, as he demonstrated when he reached into his subspace and took out his signature ax, the weapon now also crackling with added charge. Behind him, the enforcers that worked with the organics had all drawn and primed their weapons, taking Ultra Magnus' attention away from his former protégé and giving him an idea. Whatever was allowing Optimus to stand up to the Hammer's power, it was very unlikely that his followers had it, too, as Optimus' intact state was impossible enough already. He fired at them at the same time Sentinel lounged at Optimus, engaging the ax-wielding mech in close combat and taking his attention onto himself, but a huge energy field appeared and surrounded Optimus' allies, absorbing the lightning and protecting his mechs and the organics. Said mechs took that as a sign to open fire and the Elite Guard soon found themselves overwhelmed, especially when Blurr gave into his training's conditioning and ran off and a sniper took out Topheat. Not that he was of any use, anyway, cowering behind Magnus.

At least Sentinel seemed to be putting up a good fight, but the Magnus was every bit as surprised as he was with Optimus' fighting style. It was nothing like how he had fought in the Academy. He moved with ease and agility, his every move a glide, every attack or parry as fluid and elegant as water, sliding into every new stance without hesitation, like he didn't even need to think about it, something that had been his greatest weakness as a cadet. He fought with a confidence that Ultra Magnus had only ever seen in Decepticons and he wondered briefly if the ones that lived here had trained him and just _how many bots were here in the first place!?_ Sentinel was giving it his all, entirely focused on his opponent while Optimus seemed to have the presence of mind to continue using whatever it is that he was using to protect his subordinates. Sentinel Prime seemed to have realized that, as well, as his attacks only became more vicious and aggressive. The brighter colored bot didn't even seem to notice the change, or didn't acknowledge it. Ultra got this distinctive feeling that Optimus was _toying_ with his SIC. The big-chinned mech didn't even notice the difference between a true fight and this mockery of it.

Blurr wasn't coming back.

Jazz, from what Ultra could see without taking his optics off of his protégé fighting his former protégé and the bots firing at him - including the sniper he could not locate in the tall buildings - had engaged first the black and gold two-wheeler he wasn't familiar with but when the motorcycle had fallen onto his back, a _very_ familiar energon-katana wielding bot had jumped in and was playing with the white cyberninja as much as Optimus was with Sentinel. Ultra felt cold fear grip his spark. Before he had disappeared from both Autobot and Decepticon radars, Deadlock had been a living, breathing nightmare that could massacre entire battalions before he was detected on the battlefield. The reason behind his sudden defection was still a mystery to all, but the former member of the Primal Vanguard had disappeared and no one had had any news of him until this very moment. He had been a strict Decepticon loyalist until his defection. How he had ended up here and fighting for a former Autobot, no less, was a question Ultra Magnus would very much like to have answered.

He had to dodge Sentinel being thrown at him when Optimus got bored of toying with him, sending the blue and orange bot sailing over his helm and straight into the ship. He, however, didn't see Jazz flying towards him as Deadlock launched him at him, both Jazz and Ultra Magnus tumbling down onto the descending platform with a clang. When they got back up to their pedes, it was to the sight of three seekers having joined the gathered mechs, as well as a strange looking femme and mech, one of whom he recognized immediately as Dominus Ambus, a former DJD member until he had gone MIA and was presumed offline many stellar cycles ago. The femme he almost didn't recognize, but when he did, he turned an incredulous stare at Optimus because _it wasn't possible_. It had to be someone else! The femme had _four optics_ and those strange things on her shoulders! But the way she stood by Optimus in easy familiarity and that glare on her face ... There was no doubt.

Optimus didn't offer any explanation. He stood tall and proud with his helm tilted upwards confidently, optics hiding his emotions. "This is your final warning. Leave and never come back. Had the AllSpark wished to return to you, it would. Now get off of my planet."

Magnus looked to his battered comrades and frowned when he found Blurr to be well out of communication range. He cursed internally but nodded. "Very well, Optimus Prime. But be aware that you have brought this upon yourself." He ordered Jazz to pick up Topheat and brought up the back as the two smaller mechs made their way up to the ship. He kept optic contact with Optimus until the ship's bay closed. He immediately ordered for the ship to take off and leave Earth's orbit, hiding behind its moon. He ignored Sentinel's seething long enough to get in contact with Autobot Intelligence.

The second Longarm Prime's face appeared on the screen, Ultra Magnus called for backup. It will take a couple of solar cycles but it was necessary.

Optimus Prime had went too far.


	24. Chapter 24

**Thief**

**Summary: Ancient cities and artifacts of great power don't just disappear on their own! The number of defections rises. A group of washouts and a warlord wind up on a world unlike any they've seen before and the leader is interesting enough. Peace. Equallity. And no factions, put your weapons down, Primus damn it!**

The first two days, Blurr spent running all over the planet, surprising himself and other mechs - as it turned out, there were _thousands_ of them on this carbon dominated planet - when he'd sprint by them and they'd try to stop him. He ran so fast he could run over water without sinking and when he finally found a vehicle mode he found he rather liked, Blurr managed to fit in a lot better. That didn't stop enforcers from trying to pull him over or engage in high speed pursuits, but no one had ever managed to catch him so far. Not even the seekers that flew in this organic planet's skies.

The third day he found he had ran out of energon just as he, somehow, without really being aware of it, found himself back in Detroit, keeping a wary optic out for anyone who might try to capture him. He might not be picking up any spark signatures even from mechs he could _see_ walking past his parked alt mode, but he knew there might be someone watching so he kept _very still_. Rather hard for someone built for the speed he can reach in under 0.2 seconds. Still, it actually allowed him to observe the bots walking around with those organics without fear, going to work, playing with littler organics, joking, drinking oil or energon, racing from time to time, though that enforcer Barricade was never far behind as he chased the racers. Blurr hadn't seen a single sign of aggression from _anyone_ as he sat there and pondered how much energy he'd have to spend to steal those two oil-guzzler's fuel so he doesn't fall into stasis lock. He was running dangerously low on energon and anything would be great right now. Still, he didn't want to subject himself to that painful-seeming method that humans used to refuel their vehicles, so on the fourth day, he followed a bot returning from a night shift to see where he might get some energon.

Which was how he found himself crossing this long, long, _long_ bridge (or maybe he was just getting panicky impatient as more of his tanks emptied and more of his HUD turned red with warnings) towards an even larger city, this one _definitely_ Cybertronian in design, where he was floored to see even _more_ mechs walking around without batting an optic lid at him when he transformed in the middle of the street, completely forgetting about following the bot towards fuel as he just ... _Gawked_ at the tall buildings, the flightframes soaring in between the buildings on designated flight paths, the traffic streets a level bellow the one he was currently standing on, the mobile bridges between buildings and the protruding edges on which some more bots walked on. The design of the place had obviously had in mind bots of all frame types and sizes as no one seemed to be stumbling into each other. They were all walking towards whatever their destinations might be, greeting each other in a civil, if not outright friendly manner. Besides the integrated weaponry that all warframes were onlined with, there were no weapons in sight, even when bots who still had their faction symbols passed each other on the street. They avoided any form of contact, maybe even made sure to walk further apart from each other, but there was no sneering comments, no growled threats, no spat insults. They just passed each other and went on their merry way.

The advertisement in the city was as considerate for both frame types as everything else. The shops and local businesses, too, though Blurr was sure that one shop over there was ran by a local organic lifeform. And that workshop over there seemed to be a joint effort with one for cosmetic detailing. And that one over there seemed to be running an exchange office for credits and the local monetary value of 'dollars'. And that one over there had an Arts and Crafts business, also ran by _two_ organics that seemed to be Conjunx Endura, judging by how they exchanged pecks as they opened up shop for the day. Blurr couldn't help but stare because for as long as he could remember, Autobots had always been told organics spewed toxic matter that can melt through your plating or eat up your circuits, and yet here everyone interacted with them as though it was the most normal thing in the world.

Recalling how the Magnus Hammer had not had any effect on Optimus self-proclaimed-because-he-liked-it-Prime, he considered that _this_ might be more normal than _that_.

He started looking around for someone to follow towards fuel when his tanks pinged him insistently to refuel, dangerously low in the red zone now. He had the presence of mind to take off his Elite Guard badge, seeing as how he doubted anyone would help him if he were to be wearing it, as he started wandering around the street, _begging_ whoever might be listening - not that he _believed_ in Primus, but the AllSpark might have mercy, if it was truly as sentient as some scientists suspected - that he doesn't fall into stasis lock. He wasn't sure what might happen to him if he fell in the middle of the street. They'd probably shift him off to Medical Officer Ratchet, and then Optimus self-proclaimed-because-he-liked-it-Prime will find out about his still being here when the Elite Guard had been told to leave peacefully before they were to face the consequences of not following that request/order. But Optimus self-proclaimed-because-he-liked-it-Prime had been a part of the Autobot military, had went to the Academy, so he _must_ know that Ultra Magnus wouldn't exactly bother to search for Blurr from the second Blurr ran off. Had it been a non-organic world, maybe they'd make the effort to at least scan the planet for his life signature, seeing as everyone in the Elite Guard is aware of the standard Intelligence Agents' procedure to run in order to protect vital information they might have in their possession, but not on an organic planet, especially one that had the means to fight them. They have left Blurr and won't be coming back, abandoning him to a fate of falling into stasis lock due to lack of fuel or energon.

Just when he was sure he wasn't going to make it, he saw a seeker mech walk out of an establishment named humbly 'Swerve's' with a barrel of hot, deliciously smelling oil in servo and Blurr all but teleported to the shop. To his surprise, despite the small, homey feel it gave off, it was elegantly furnished and had one whole wall covered in certificates from all over the universe, declaring the concoctions from 'Swerve's' to be of the best quality and taste. The Intelligence Agent cast an optic around to find a price board, only to frown in confusion when he could spot no such board. He was broken out of his musings when a white and red minibot waved him excitedly over to the bar.

"A new faceplate! What a delight! Welcome, welcome my friend! What can I get you?" He was already pulling out a shaker and looking eagerly at the blue racer. Blurr hesitated only for a second before approaching the bar and sitting on one of the lowered stools. He yelped when it suddenly lurched upwards so he would be level with the bar top, where the minibot was still grinning at him.

"I don't have much credits on me," Blurr admitted hesitantly and could only reset his optics in bewilderment when the bot behind the bar laughed. He had obviously been an Autobot at some point but had settled down here and got rid of his badge, like most of the bots Blurr had seen seemed to have done, both former Autobot _and_ Decepticon.

"Oh, how silly! Credits!" The minibot continued giggling until he realized Blurr was serious. "Oh. You must be our new guest, then. Agent Blurr, was it?"

Said speedster stiffened, low fuel warnings now no longer the only ones on his HUD. "How do you know my designation and why would you call me 'new guest'? Why am I an new guest? I am a Cybertronian Elite Guard Intelligence Agent not some random bot who through means unknown landed on this far off primitive organic-dominated planet. Why would I be a guest?" He asked at top speed, forgetting to slow down so others might clearly understand him.

His conversation partner reset his optics at him, obviously trying to figure out what he had said before just shrugging it off. "I'll take a wild guess you're asking about the guest thing, so I'll just tell you it's the Republic policy to shelter and welcome anyone who's in any sort of trouble or need. We've got plenty of resources and space to share and Optimus has a great big spark. Your name has been distributed so bots know to assist you should you ask for it and preferably direct you here to Metroplex so Optimus might explain everything, as per usual around here when hew bots arrive. I'm guessing your tanks must be pretty much empty by now, so is mid grade good?"

"How do I know you won't poison me or drug me?" Blurr asked suspiciously, optics shifting a little when he heard light pedesteps followed by much heavier ones enter the establishment, slow to approach the bar. Whoever it was, the bar keeper seemed to know them well enough to already start brewing whatever mix the newly arrived bots liked. "You know who I am but I have no idea who you are and the first step in earning someone's trust meager as it may be from such a shallow exchange of information is to introduce yourself and you have failed to do that when I entered you just ushered me in to have more customers."

A Camian femme came up behind the bar keeper and let out a low whistle, staring at him, baffled and impressed. "And here I thought _Bluestreak_ was chatty." The femme then took a cube and walked back to wherever she had come from in the first place, muttering some impressive science formulas under her intake. Blurr was no scientist, but he had listened to Longarm from time to time when the Head of Intelligence was doing some advanced calculations so he knew to be impressed. The femme had looked like she hadn't slept in days. She seemed only half awake. Then again, maybe she wasn't a morning person. Blurr usually was, but his tanks were getting pretty annoyed with him denying them their much needed fuel.

"Um, my name is Swerve, I own the bar? If that was what you were asking, that is," the minibot, Swerve, rubbed the back of his helm in confusion before handing over the two drinks he had been preparing. Blurr did his best not to flinch when he saw a big, black servo reach for one of the cubes, the other almost cheerily snatching up the other one. The two bots sat at the other end of the bar, the smaller one - or at least Blurr _thinks_ that the slightly higher pitched voice belongs to the smaller one; the deep rumble that answered surely couldn't, right? - immediately starting up the conversation, talking about what happened to him the day before and his bigger, no doubt warframe companion answering in short sentences and grunts, clearly not as much of a morning person. "So, uh, is that yes to the mid grade or would you like something else? It's all on the house, 24/7. I make my profit in interstellar trade."

"Maybe later mid grade would be lovely right now." Swerve took a moment to comprehend what he had said before the white and red mech beamed, gave him an enthusiastic "Coming right up!" before he took out a fancy cube and turned around to pour the energon.

"-and so I made a sharp turn on my hoverboard just at the last second and got ahead of Slidebolt, took the lead and won the race by a nanosecond! Can you believe it? But then we realized our hoverboard race has led us straight to old Delta Micron's apartment and I don't know where he gets that much energy to be so angry, but he sprang out of his apartment and started yelling at us as though we'd broken his door down or something. But we didn't, really! So we had to hoversurf away if we didn't want to acquire dents from old mech Micron's 'walking stick', which is actually a very dangerous energon spear. I heard he once swatted old Skyfire out of the sky back when-"

"So, where you from, Agent Blurr?" Swerve turned back around, grin still in place, but Blurr's whole processor focused completely on the cube of energon set before him and he snatched it up, downed it and covered up a burp before the other mech could reset his optics, asking for another and completely forgetting about the two conversing a few seats away. Now that he was getting some fuel in his tanks, nothing else seemed to matter until all the red warnings cleared up from his HUD. He was, however, rather surprised when he saw a fourth of them immediately cleared up. That middle grade was rather potent and yet wasn't getting him charged like high grade would.

"I was brought online about sixteen hundred stellar cycles ago in the military complex of Iacon to be a part of the Elite Guard but they doubted I would ever make a decent soldier because of my glitch because I speak faster than they can understand and they wanted to throw me out to have a civilian life but then they realized that I wasn't only a fast speaker but also a fast runner and that there was no one faster so they let me complete my training though they had no idea what to do with me," Blurr paused only long enough to quickly drink half of the next cube Swerve placed in front of him, taking care to talk just a little bit slower so the other mech could understand him. "But then Longarm Prime though back then he was a Major decided that I would best be utilized in the Intelligence department so he trained me himself and I became his first agent and I've served under him ever since and I think we're doing good seeing as he is the youngest Head of Intelligence in Cybertron's history and I would honestly be very glad to return to him because he asked me to become Conjunx Endura when I return from this mission with Ultra Magnus but now I'm stuck here and why the Pit did I just tell you all of this?"

Despite the slower pace, Swerve still needed a few kliks to process all that was said and just chuckled at the blue racer as he downed the rest of his drink and Swerve took out a bottle and just filled his cube instead of always turning around towards the energon dispense. "This one's with rust flakes, just a fair warning, and it's a bit sweet but it's still mid grade. As for your rather amusing question, it's the power of the bar!" Blurr gave him a dubious look and Swerve just chuckled again. "No, seriously! People usually sit at the bar just so they can whine or tell someone their life story. So, Conjunx Endura, huh? Never had one of those. Plenty of lovers and relationships and frag buddies, but I guess I just never found that right one to share my spark with. He any good in the berth?"

Blurr glared at the bartender, who only laughed again before he had to attend to another customer, leaving the bottle behind with a wink. He finally looked over to the two bots from earlier when he realized one of them was choking on their drink, possibly because of Swerve's crude question, and he nearly froze in place when his optics fell on none other than the Decepticon leader, sitting with a white and blue minibot who was looking at him with concern as he tried to get the energon out of his vents. He had completely forgotten where he was, too focused on the energon and finding relief in talking to someone for the first time after four days of constant running and hiding. Longarm would be so disappointed in him. Anyone could have captured or slagged him and he wouldn't have even noticed!

A few others had paused to see what's going on at the bar but soon brushed it off and went back to their drinks and just when had it gotten so crowded in the first place?! Frag, but it seemed that the lack of energon and rest had really did him in if he was this unobservant. He was a shame to all Intelligence bots out there for losing vigilance so easily.

And yet he felt completely safe. Like there was no danger for him here, despite being surrounded by both neutrals, half of which were warframes, and still active Decepticons in all their lumbering, growling, red-optics, purple-badged glory. This whole city, Metroplex as signs called it, just radiated _home _and _peace _despite Blurr only today stepping pede onto it. He looked subtly around and marveled at the ease everyone interacted with. Cybertron was so stiff and distant these days. Paranoia of war and the energon shortage was putting everyone on edge. Here, warframes and civilians laughed and drank together and the energon supply seemed to be endless as Swerve gave out free cube after free cube of it to anyone who entered his bar.

No one gave mixed couples a second glance when they held servos or kissed in public. There were a lot of all kinds of couples around. It made him think of Longarm and a pang of nostalgia hit him. Blurr wished he was here. He had a feeling they wouldn't have to worry about superior/subordinate issues here, even if they somehow managed to work out their former status quo here, too. They'd be free. Everyone seemed to be welcome here, so surely Blurr and Longarm will be, too. _'Maybe I can reach out to him and ask him to come?'_

He noticed it immediately when the bar suddenly became silent, all optics on the red, blue and silver bot standing at the entrance, field pulsing ease, comfort, familiarity and safety as he smiled and nodded in greeting to everyone. The bar broke out into a short cheery welcome before most of the bots went back to their drinks and company, only a few optics lingering on Optimus Prime as he made his way to the bar. Swerve already had a barrel of hot, spicy scented oil prepared and the leader of the Independent Cybertronian Republic smiled in thanks before taking a long sip. "Agent Blurr," Optimus greeted casually, giving him a small nod and an almost minuscule smile.

"Optimus Prime," Blurr returned the nod, noticing with interest that Megatron seemed to have fixated his gaze on Optimus, apparently completely ignoring what his own companion was saying. Not that the minibot seemed to care, happy to sip at his won drink for the moment through that fancy straw of his. "I heard you've been searching for me."

"Couldn't have you falling in stasis lock somewhere where I can't provide you with medical attention until it's too late. I'm glad you're back in Detroit and that you've found your way to Metroplex." The bigger mech shrugged, finishing his oil in one long gulp.

"It's an interesting place alright though I only got the chance to see a little bit before I had to attend to my fuel tanks."

Optimus regarded him with those calm optics of his for a moment before nodding towards the door. "I can give you a proper tour, if you want. Besides," he put down his empty barrel with another nod of thanks to Swerve, optics never leaving Blurr's. He was afraid he might crack his cube with how tense his fingers were around it. One spasm and it would be shattered. "We need to talk."

Blurr looked around, at all these content and genuinely happy bots, down to his free cube of energon and the bottle Swerve had so easily given away, out to the streets where mechs of all shapes and sizes were joking and laughing together and even towards the relaxed Decepticon warlord just a few seats away, dangerous and yet completely nonthreatening, recalling all he had ever heard of the Republic and the enigma that was Optimus Prime. He looked back towards the earnest gaze of said Optimus Prime and nodded, finishing his cube and subspacing Swerve's gifted bottle when the bartender winked at him. "Yes I would like that and yes, I really think we do."

And if he just so happens to have thrown his Elite Guard badge down a garbage disposal and smiled as he heard it being shredded, then that was his own business.


	25. Chapter 25

**Thief**

**Summary: Ancient cities and artifacts of great power don't just disappear on their own! The number of defections rises. A group of washouts and a warlord wind up on a world unlike any they've seen before and the leader is interesting enough. Peace. Equallity. And no factions, put your weapons down, Primus damn it!**

Not two days after Blurr had officially joined the Independent Cybertronain Republic of Earth did the reports come in that the Elite Guard was making a fast approach towards Earth. Optimus had been expecting it, having caught on to the word 'squadron' when Ultra Magnus was trying to bullshit his way around the story of them being noble rescuers of a space bridge repair crew (Hmph! As _if_!) so he had known that Magnus had a backup plan. The way he had so easily conceded to leave had only served to put him on edge and he and his innermost circle have been making preparations for this since that day.

Say what you want about his officers, younger and older, when they were off shift, but when they were working, and especially when they were working _together_, there was no better team to be found in the universe.

Optimus had known this day would eventually come and so he was prepared. What was even more important, all of Metroplex's citizens were prepared, too. There was protocol put in place should something like this ever happen. Optimus had promised them all peace and that none of them will ever have to fight again and he intended to keep that promise. The only one that will be staying topside when the Elite Guard arrives will be Optimus Prime himself, no matter how many times numerous other mechs tried to get him to change his mind and let them fight with him, _for_ him. Optimus had made a promise and he wasn't going to break it. Whatever the Elite Guard may try to throw his way, Optimus knew he could deal with it. He was ready for this. Has been for a long time.

All of his citizens knew that, of course. Those conclaves they held every three months reminded them each and every time. It reminded them of his sincerity, of who he was, of just how much his word meant when it was sworn and given. It reminded them of just how much this peace meant to _him_. It reminded them to the extents he might be ready to go to in order to ensure it prevails for as long as possible. It reminded them that it will take a lot more than what the Elite Guard, especially weakened as it was now due to the energon shortage back on Cybertron, can dish out to take him down. That, however, didn't stop their worrying. It did Optimus' spark wonders to have so much love and support from his citizens, from the mecha he was ready to gladly _die_ for. It could get a little overbearing, from time to time, but he didn't mind. He guessed he could understand even their more selfish motivations for worrying about him. After all, it had taken for _him_ to come around just so any of them could have peace after _millions_ of stellar cycles and even longer in order to get true equality, rights for all and decent amounts of energon regularly. He had heard Metroplex described as _Utopia_, by mechanical and organic species both. He wasn't so sure about that, but it was still one hell of an improvement when compared to the rest of the universe. It was built through hard work and a team effort.

He will _not_ let it be destroyed by the Elite Guard and their, as Decepticons loved to call it, 'trigger happy' manners.

So when Soundwave and Blaster informed him that the squadron will be in Earth's orbit by ten in the morning tomorrow, Optimus ordered for everyone to go underground. Quite literally, in some cases. When the Independent Cybertronian Republic had first settled on Earth and as soon as Optimus had managed to form a standing agreement with the humans, the miners they had on hand by that point had all come to work together and build an entire underground shelter, under Detroit and partially under what was to become the Dinobot Island. As more and more bots arrived, the big shelter was expanded and upgraded until it practically became an underground city. Much smaller than Metroplex, but it was almost as big as Detroit and it had a screen overhead to reflect the sky so it would feel like they were out in the open. Hundreds of bots actually lived there, but the capacity of the place was two to four thousand Cybertronians and all the people of Detroit. Some of the mechs were going to stay in the mines and the ship yard, which was connected by long tunnels to both shelters, and the bots that lived elsewhere on the planet were to activate their signal dampeners and stay hidden until the matter was resolved. Cloaking devices have been active on their bases on other planets in the Solar system since the Steelhaven entered their galaxy so they will just have to stay put.

The evacuation would take time, Optimus logically knew that, especially as everyone had to properly lock up their homes for once and Soundwave and Blaster had to pack up their delicate equipment so they can keep in contact with him. The hospitals had to be carefully secured and what few patients that were berth-ridden there had to be gently transfered down to the medical centers in the shelters. Skyfire especially, as he was only just starting to truly recover from his long lasting illness. He, like the rest of Optimus' closest and oldest friends, protested, no matter how well they knew he could take care of himself, but he didn't put up a fight when the medics wheeled him away, just made Optimus promise not to get hurt. Arcee and the seekers and other teachers, mentors and caretakers had to lead the sparklings and younglings into the special facility in the underground shelter which had access to plenty of energon, various forms of entertainment and was, most importantly, easily defended. Swerve had to especially prepare his bar lest something cause an explosion, which would be catastrophic with all that flammable energon and fuel, and Elita and her fellow scientists had to check three times whether their labs were stable in stasis lock before they could lock it all up. Convoy, one of his oldest archivists, informed him that all the datapads and data chips were secured before he went to the shelters. Drift and Crosshairs ensured him that the space bridge has been lowered,locked and closed and that the elevator leading down to the ship yard has been closed off. Even the Dinobots didn't make a fuss about having to go down into the shelters.

Then there was the question of all of their guests, Autobot or Decepticon. Thankfully, the Decepticons weren't eager to disobey their master's orders about not causing trouble while in the Milky way, so Optimus was thankful to Megatron for that. The Autobots, though, had been offered to leave the planet before the evacuation process had even started. No one wanted them to be getting any ideas and injuring any of the citizens or somehow revealing the shelters. They will no doubt inform the Elite Guard about the sheer number of mechs present on the planet, but that can't be helped. Thankfully, the shelters were one of the many off limits areas for guests, so they couldn't send an attack on a space packed with so many lives.

Surprisingly, a little less than a half of their current Autobot guests had decided to rejoin the Elite Guard. Those that did were all very eager and not at all guilty in forgetting everything that the Republic mecha had done for them, while those who stayed were divided down the middle to those who wouldn't betray those who offered them aid when they heeded it the most and those who had decided they would like to stay when this whole mess has been dealt with. Optimus' spark danced in joy at more of his people being saved and not even the impending conflict could dampen his mood. A dozen Autobot ships had left their ship yard, but a few dozen mechs had stayed, half of whom will stay even when this whole slagged mess is over and done with. Dominus Ambus assured him that the guests that stayed were all being carefully monitored to prevent any possible mishaps.

Now, as the light of dawn slowly filtered in through the colored glass of Metroplex's Basilica, Optimus sat in the middle of the building, concentrating hard on an inner connection when heavy pedesteps drew his attention back to the real world. He looked back over his shoulder and his optics widened in surprise and shock when he found it to be none other than Megatron walking calmly into the Basilica, casually taking in its appearance when most of his attention seemed to be focused on Optimus. He shouldn't be here! Dominus and Hook were supposed to watch him! And if not them, then Slipstream or Barricade or Elita One! Then again, Hook was with the other medics tending to Skyfire and their other patients, all seekers were guarding the sparklings, younglings and human kids that had also been placed under their care. Barricade was an enforcer, so he had to ensure no fights or arguments broke out while everyone was confined in the shelters or the ship yard and Elita was in charge of her fellow scientists - to make sure no one blows anything up, talking about _you_, Que - and the Dinobots, who would no doubt end up wrestling warframes if not kept under careful watch. Dominus already had his servos full with other security measures, such as the transfer of all prisoners from both human prisons and from Sector 7, along with the Minicons that worked there, and to ask Red Alert to take his place or watch the Decepticon warlord was just _asking_ for the now nurse to become one of the patients. And he couldn't add sparklingsitting a warlord on Soundwave's and Blaster's lists of responsibilities, so he guessed he really should have been expecting this.

"You're a hard bot to find," his unexpected companion commented with a smirk, casually strolling over to where Optimus was craning his neck cables to look up at him in all his gunmetal gray, red and black huge glory. Optimus was so glad to have cleared out the Basilica as soon as he had walked in. It didn't matter that Metroplex's and his own secrecy will be shattered in a matter of hours - probably, no most _definitely _since he couldn't see any other scenario playing out without him involving his mecha, something he _refused _to do - he'd rather keep said secrecy up for as long as he could. "Especially given what's going on."

"Given what's going on, you shouldn't be here," he threw back, watching as Megatron came up in front of him and mimicked his cross-legged seating position on the floor, staring up at the amazing art works on the ceiling and along the walls, higher up. The Basilica in Metroplex was very similar to the Primal Basilica itself, both inside and out, in appearance. Optimus had spent hours exploring every crook and cranny, fascinated by its secrets and just how much id differed from the building it was modeled after. Not that anyone actually knew how much it differed from the inside besides himself. Only a rare few mechs were old enough to have seen its inside, considering how long ago it had been sealed closed. Megatron wasn't one of those mechs.

"By your logic, neither should you, though I don't understand what you're trying to play at, I will give you that."

Those red optics focused back on him, questioning, but Optimus only frowned at him. He really wasn't in the mood nor did he have the time. The light outside was already much brighter and it was now only a matter of a couple of hours before he has to face the Elite Guard. "I know what I'm doing, Megatron."

"And what would that be?" The warframe challenged, crossing his arms over his chest plates and giving the grounder a mild glare. Prime copied his stance, well aware of how childish it was, all things considered.

"Protecting my people and my city."

"By yourself?" Megatron arched an optic ridge at that, seemingly unimpressed but just as challenging as before. Optimus frowned.

"Got a problem with that?" He made sure he was just as challenging, but it seems he had misjudged Megatron's reason for searching for him. He had presumed that it was curiosity or something similar ...

"For frag's sake, Optimus! This is no joking matter! After what I heard you did to them, they'll not hesitate to kill you! They destroyed good, honest mechs for much less than the AllSpark! And you don't deserve to die at the hands of those pathetic, sleazy, scraplet-fragging pieces of corrupt slag!"

He had never thought worry might be what had brought the gray Decepticon to him. His spark gave a nervous, excited throb, making him feel all tingly inside and he swore his faceplates were heating up. Again. It seemed to be a common occurrence whenever he was around the older mech and he didn't want to think about what that might mean. Except, when looking up at the red optics blazing with worry, Optimus thought he saw the same sentiments returned, despite how short their time together was, all things considered. Taking courage form that, he scooted closer, invading Megatron's personal space, their EM fields intertwining, startling the Decepticon Lord, though he did not move away.

"Why do you care so much?"

Megatron hesitated but then glared down at him and the red and blue bot squeaked in surprise when large servos suddenly grabbed him and dragged him even closer, trapping him against the wide expanse of a strong, thickly armored chest plates. His spark skipped a few harmonics when he, despite the metal separating them, felt Megatron's spark so close to his own and had to manually prevent his fans from coming online. The pulses from his own sparkchamber really weren't helping matters. Now really wasn't the time for matchmaking divinity.

"Am I not allowed to?" Megatron answered his question with a question, keeping a tight hold on the younger mech, much to Optimus' displeasure ... And immense _embarrassment_. Any other time, had this happened even a week earlier, he would be delighted. In the two decacycles he had been here, Megatron had managed to worm his way deep into Prime's spark and Optimus still couldn't decide whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. Considering how sad he will be when Megatron leaves, he had always thought it to be a, well, _sad_, sorrowful thing and yet he had not tried to put a stop to it. He and Megatron had had all sorts of random conversations and field trips around Earth since the mech had arrived. Given that he had been allowed near Galvatron and into the youth sector ... No other guest had received such privileges and Optimus would be lying if he said he hadn't been trying to influence Megatron by showing him all the best things about the Independent Cybertronian Republic.

Whether it was to encourage the warlord to seek peace or to stay, Optimus had never been sure. All he had known, that he still knows, is that his spark has grown fond of the Decepticon leader and only wants to be close to him.

"I didn't say that. I'm just not entirely sure why you would."

"I'm not sure why you are of the impression that your are impossible to care for, Optimus Prime," Megatron said in a careful voice, watching his face closely and Optimus tried not to wince when he thought about how Sentinel used to act around him sometimes, even _before_ Archa 7. Like Optimus was too much of a bother. It had been particularly draining after they had thought Elita One dead and Sentinel blamed it all on him. Back then, before the night he left, he really _had_ thought that way. It had been a long, exhausting groon before the final trial and Sentinel had been treating him like shit, to borrow the human term, and the groon after that hadn't been any better. And then that night in the Primal Basilica happened and he suddenly found that he didn't _need_ for Sentinel to care about him. That had been a long time ago. He had thought like that since he rescued Elita from those fragging spiders on Archa 7 and he sure as slag hadn't meant to come off like that in his question to Megatron. "But rest assured that it is, in fact, _very_ easy for one to grow _very_ fond of you and worry for your safe being, always. I mean, I never even saw you refuel and Swerve's fast burning concoctions don't count! And by the sounds of it, judging by how your officers had reacted to those pictures Ariel made of us, you don't recharge much, either! It's actually _impossible_ not to worry about you!"

Optimus flushed a little at the exclaimed admission of care and worry but just smiled up at the warframe. Whether he realized it or not, Megatron was being very sweet. "You really don't need to worry about me. I know what I'm doing." In just a couple of hours, what happens will either make or break whatever hopes the current Autobots - and possibly the current Decepticons, depending on how they as a whole react to this - had of survival. Optimus knew his given task was to ensure the survival of his race. It was not a task to be given to the weak minded or with a faint spark. He had a responsibility to his people as a greater whole and that, unfortunately, included letting the Great War finally run its course and end in the destruction of both sides if they don't throw their weapons down and start talking peace. It was horrible to leave so many to their inevitable deaths, it made his very spark hurt and left his chest cold, but it was the only way for Primus to have any of his children live on his surface again and Primus had long since resigned himself to that fate.

Cybertronians were _dying_. Be they Autobot _or_ Decepticon. A neutral ground was needed. _Optimus_ was needed to create it. He was the first bot in generations who had tried to understand _both_ sides, who had tried to learn just _what_ had led to the Great War and so many lives already lost, _so many_ sparks scarred or extinguished. He thinks he finally understands now. He had finally read _Towards Peace_, the manifesto that had led millions of Cybertronians to rebellion. Megatron, the author, had already praised him for making it obsolete, here, in Metroplex, on Earth, in the Independent Cybertronian Republic. Optimus wanted to make it obsolete _everywhere_, if he can.

The results of what will happen in only a couple of joors will decide whether that is at all possible. Optimus knew he will give on quarter, just as he won't be given any in return, if the Elite Guard had their say. The Council of Cybertron had to go _down_ in order for this wretched war to end.

One step at a time ...

"You should be down in the shelters, though," he said halfheartedly, already knowing that won't happen. He curiously traced the black outlines at the edges of Megatron's faceplates, where his - currently blocky due to his chosen helicopter Earth mode - helmet began. They weren't as visible when he was in his usual Cybertronian alt. Megatron let him explore, content strong in his EM field as he practically held Optimus in his lap. "If they see you, they'll not hesitate to offline _you_ and you-"

"I gave you my word," Megatron said with a touch of ironic humor, snorting gently. "I still don't plan on breaking it. Especially not for those fraggers."

Optimus beamed at him and, without a second of thought to prevent himself from hesitating or changing his mind, he leaned up and placed a small kiss on Megatron's cheek. As a thank you. As a reward, for it must be _so tempting_ to destroy his enemies when he was given such a clear shot. He had the element of surprise. He had a good chance. He wasn't going to take it. It filled Optimus with hope that maybe, just _maybe_, the Decepticons might get a chance at survival, too. After all, the hardest hurdle had been dealt with seemingly from the first day Megatron woke up here.

Said mech was staring down at him with an agape intake and wide optics, field pulsing shock and a sudden burst of affection that was then almost trampled over by _want_ as Megatron took Optimus helm in one big servo and brought their dermas together for a proper, strut-melting kiss, but the affection was still there, in his field, in his gentle hold, in his tender kiss. Optimus fairly melted against him, weaving his arms behind his head and opening his intake for the warlord's taking.

He didn't pay mind to how his chest pulsed warm happiness and encouragement, nor did he pay heed to the supporting shudder that traveled into their frames from the metal plating of the Basilica's floor. He didn't give a flying frag that they were making out in a sacred building, far more enamoured with enjoying said make out session than worrying about things he really had no reason to worry about. His spark was singing, his body was relaxing and his mind only paid the reports from Blaster the tiniest fragment of attention that it needed to be aware of the coming threat so he can respond. Everything else was focused on Megatron and the achingly gentle, sensual moment between them.

He couldn't think of a better way to spend time waiting for the bots he will have to put in their place.


	26. Chapter 26

**Thief**

**Summary: Ancient cities and artifacts of great power don't just disappear on their own! The number of defections rises. A group of washouts and a warlord wind up on a world unlike any they've seen before and the leader is interesting enough. Peace. Equallity. And no factions, put your weapons down, Primus damn it!**

When the Elite Guard finally arrived, Optimus had managed to convince Megatron to relocate to the HQ building and into Optimus' office, for protection's sake. The warframe protested, wanting to meet Ultra Magnus head on but the Prime wasn't having any of it, so he relented and seated himself to watch the show through the monitors in Optimus' office. Said red, blue and silver mech left with a last tender kiss before he typed in some code into the panel by the door and then he was out through the door before Megatron could cave in to the need to protect the civilian. Now, he and every other citizen of the Independent Cybertronian Republic watched with trepidation as dozens of Elite Guard ships, some of which had only days earlier been in Metroplex's underwater ship yard for repairs and maintenance, descended from the clouds, weapon systems already locked on the cities of Detroit and Metroplex and the leader of the Republic so casually flying in front of his city. No one was exactly pleased with having to stay away, but the Republic mecha knew just what their leader was capable of and knew he could take care of himself.

Megatron, Ratchet, Bulkhead, Blurr and, to an extent, Bumblebee and Prowl, as well as all the other guests currently on Earth, had no idea. Bumblebee had seen and experienced _something_ but, in whole honesty, he had no idea what while Prowl _knew_ what he had experienced and just who and what Optimus was, but he still didn't know _everything_ about Metroplex. Blurr was too new to the community and the others hadn't exactly talked about it with anyone as of yet. Ratchet could have, what with his budding, _terrifying_ friendship with the other medics and Drift's proposal for a sparkbond when this whole mess is over and done with. Or maybe even Arcee, though the nature of their friendship was complicated enough as it was, despite them only really talking to each other since Ratchet arrived on Earth. Maybe Megatron could have found out, too, since he had through means unknown to him acquired a friend in Tailgate with whom he refueled at Swerve's for breakfast and dinner, it had just never occurred to him to ask Cyclonus' Conjux Endura about it.

As it was, they were all as uninformed as the rest of the guests and could only watch as Ultra Magnus, Sentinel Prime (_Ha!_ went every Republic citizen, be it human or bot, in their thoughts) and Jazz Minor climbed up onto the Steelhaven's roof in discomfort and distaste, uncomfortable with Optimus standing alone against several Elite Guard and ordinary Autobot military squadrons, from down in the shelters or, in Megatron's case, Optimus' office at HQ. None of them were happy about it, but Optimus had put this protocol in place and they all respected him a bit too much to go against the only orders he had ever given them.

Optimus himself was not impressed, despite the mini army Ultra Magnus had managed to gather in such a remote part of the universe on such short notice. The ships were all in, if one looked closely enough, pretty poor shape. The paint was peeling, plating was covered in dirt and dents and scratches, on some ships glass was cracked and hastily repaired with welds to hold it all together. The bridges on all ships but the Elite Guard ones were dimly lit, evidence of just how much fuel they had to cut back on in order to keep the ship's main systems functional. The engines on some smaller ships visibly faltered, though that might be happening on the bigger ones as well, but they were big and lumbering enough that any loss of altitude wasn't immediately noticeable while smaller ships fairly bounced in the air instead of holding steady. The communication counsels were glitching, as some of the usual comm chatter either made it to the ship's outside speakers or their scramblers weren't functioning properly and both Soundwave and Blaster didn't need to try all that hard to get Optimus intel. One of the bigger ships' engines were crackling with electricity while a worrisome black smoke drifted out and Optimus briefly wondered if it was going to explode.

With barely a thought, he engaged the special Lenses he had upgraded into his cap-like protrusion on his helm, looking deeper into all of the ships and their systems. Five ships, one of which was one of the biggest that had arrived with this 'fleet', had no hope of activating their weapon systems. They were either for a show of power the Elite Guard no longer basked in or they were kamikaze ships, meant to crash into the enemy and blow them both up. His spark seethed when it realized the smaller ships had a dozen mechs on board each while the big one had three dozen. If they were meant to be kamikaze, Optimus will be doing more than talking some sense into the Council and Ultra Magnus when he gets his servos on them. Two ships had massive engine failure but operating weapons, so four smaller vessels supported each of the ships to keep them in the air. One ship was loaded with explosives but otherwise low on ammunition. There was a small squad of stinger-armed fast fliers that were usually meant to get in between big ships and cause trouble behind enemy lines. Optimus worried about those because they are small enough to get down in between Detroit's buildings and attack the streets. He won't let Detroit become a battlefield.

All in all, the fleet was ... rather pathetic. The Steelhaven was the best equipped and the most maintained ship. It had the deadliest weaponry, seeing as it was the empty husk of Sigma Supreme, one of the Omega Sentinels from the Great War, and had sufficient amount of energon to keep it in the fight, but not for long, which was probably why Ultra Magnus had tried for an intimidation tactic instead of outright, full on assault. Not that they could keep it up long enough to do any real damage, anyway. If this was a reflection to the state of the rest of the Autobot army or the situation on Cybertron - which it probably was, damn them all! - Optimus hated to think how the exiled Decepticons were holding up. Then again, their lack of conquering Cybertron might be more of a part of a tactic than a lack of strength. Warbuilds may consume more fuel, but they were also a lot more resourceful where civilians might get squeamish. They were practical above all else and they are the mightiest military force for hire in the universe. Optimus had heard quite a bit about their mercenary side-business from the warbuilds that were now his citizens. Decepticons might just be better off than Autobots, despite lacking Cybertron's - ever dwindling - resources.

Ultra Magnus had come to Earth to pick a fight against the stable, energon rich Independent Cybertronian Republic with ships that were barely holding together. Their saving grace were actually the ships the Republic mecha had fixed up, but they hadn't been foolish about it. All of their weapons systems were locked and will _remain_ locked as long as they stay in the Republic's territory.

They stood no chance of taking on Optimus.

They just didn't know it yet.

_Not_ that he was about to start a mini war in Detroit's skies. It would be hypocritical of him to preach about peace but then to turn around and start a war when he has the means to end a battle before it even began.

_If intimidation tactics is what Ultra Magnus wanted ..._

The sky overhead darkened as dark gray clouds gathered over his city at the call of the Magnus Hammer in the Autobot Supreme Commander's servo. They danced with lightning and rumbled as thunder rolled from cloud to cloud in a show of power that would have probably had any other Cybertronian who knew what the Hammer was flinching and backing away in fear. But not Optimus. The items in his subspace all sang with power and pulsed with the need to provide him with protection. They wanted to be used but Optimus won't be using them. He didn't want war. He fought for _peace_.

Violence - or even returned violence as retaliation - is to be kept as a last resort. He will not repay the humans' kindness and hospitality by bringing war to their planet.

"Optimus Prime," the Magnus' voice echoed from every ships' external speaker as the blue and white Autobot focused his optics - and tried not to be too stunned by the fact that the wings peeking out from behind Optimus' back and keeping him in the air _weren't_ some kind of jetpack - on the flying red, blue and silver Prime so casually standing as the first and last line of defense for the planet he claimed as his own. He had expected a bigger opposition, especially given what the Republic's previously guests have been telling him about the sheer amount of bots living just in this city. He wondered if it was perhaps that they couldn't get any response ships out fast enough to form an opposing enemy line, but he was more surprised by the lack of any of those 'human' lifeforms that dominated this planet in the city bellow. It had been rather full of them the _last_ time he had entered this planet's atmosphere. He wondered whether he should be suspicious or paranoid regarding that alone. No populated city could empty out so quickly. "I am giving you one last chance to end this peacefully. Hand over the AllSpark and we will leave this planet without disturbing you or anyone else. This is your last warning." He called upon lightning and had it form a temporary 'cage' around the flying mech before letting it up. "Whatever follows is on your helm, _your decision alone_."

"I couldn't have found more suiting words, Ultra Magnus," Optimus replied, having Metroplex's speakers - usually used for entertainment or announcements or, in the early days, while he was still traveling, as an alarm system - broadcast his voice back at the Autobots, sending Magnus a sardonic grin. He took out a beautiful sword, tall as his chest, red and blue in color with a darker silver hilt embedded with ancient glyphs that started burning like liquid fire in his hand, energy so potent crackling like electricity along the sword's entire length in response to its wielder's hold. "So _I_ am giving _you_ this last chance to end this peacefully and just _leave_. I _swear_ to you that you won't like the consequences."

"So be it, Optimus Prime. You have brought this upon yourself. Ready the guns!" The air was suddenly filled with the humming of energized cannons and lasers and other sorts of weaponry and Optimus could practically smell the ozone of the discharge. Ultra Magnus hesitated in giving his next order, apparently waiting for the other to back down, so when he didn't, he finally ordered the ships to open fire. Optimus didn't move out of the way.

He snapped his battlemask closed over his faceplates so only his blue burning optics remained visible and fell into a sword-fighting stance, both hands on the long hilt and the blade suddenly snapped open. Charge danced between the two halves and the edges of the sword lit up even brighter as the attacks neared. Optimus didn't even buckle in the air in the _slightest_ when the blasts hit him, or rather, the sword. He experienced no pain and no harm whatsoever was bestowed on his frame. His armor didn't even heat up. He stood like an immovable object as the attacks slammed into him and ... nothing seemed to happen.

But then all those watching realized what was happening. Not even the Republic mecha saw their Prime using ancient artifacts often and the sword he was currently using was a mystery to them all in its unique properties. The sword was _absorbing_ the energy of the attacks before they could reach its wielder. No matter the angle from which the attack came from, Optimus could not be harmed. Everyone held their breath, afraid that the sword might suddenly stop working its magic or extreme science or whatever the frag it was doing that was keeping Optimus safe, but it didn't. In the Prime's office, Megatron was fairly denting and crushing Oprimus' work desk as he watched the fight, gripping on for dear life as his spark trashed in fright for the mech it had grown so fond of. Ultra Magnus was well aware that his intake was hanging open in _fear_ and shock, though it at least wasn't reaching his pedes like Sentinel's was. Panic was already overtaking the communication channels as people realized that their assault was _useless_.

Optimus held strong and steady until, finally, the ships stopped firing, their crews staring at the perfectly unharmed red and blue mech in _horror_, as though they were staring at Unicron himself. From beside his spark came a pulse of vicious approval of the fear and awe that his spark did not quite echo. The Prime casually looked over his even more charged weapon. In all the one thousand and fifty stellar cycles that he'd had it with him, it had never failed him, had never let him come to harm. The last time he had been injured was due to him refusing to carry around a weapon which was so powerful - thankfully, only in his servo - that it could destroy a _planet_ with only a small amount of its power being spent. And it could always become _more_ powerful, as it _absorbs_ all the time. He didn't need to use it for it to grow more powerful. Its absorption properties were limitless. It could absorb a _black hole_.

He looked back up at his opponents and arched an optic ridge. With the help of the Lenses, he saw them all flinch, despite the distance and the metal plating between them.

_If intimidation tactics is what Ultra Magnus wanted ..._

"Now, then," Prime slung his sword over his shoulder, onto his back as he calmly descended onto the big plateau in Metroplex, well aware that all optics were on him. He grinned behind his mask as he dramatically raised his right servo high in the air before slamming it down in a crouch to the metal plating of _his_ city. The second his palm touched the plating, light started flooding through transformation seams that were usually invisible and the plates started _moving_ all at once, as though an extremely powerful earthquake was shaking the city. His grin, though unseen, turned positively _feral_ when the real shifting started, when the familiar sound of a transformation sequence reached his audials. His spark purred a greeting to his companion as skyscrapers and all other sorts of buildings began changing. The transformation, Optimus knew, could be over in seconds, but this was about putting on a _show_. A show of power that no one will ever forget.

There was a damn good reason that the Quintessons hadn't dared wage war on the fledgling Independent Cybertronian Republic. Between the firepower _Optimus_ packed due to the rather generous gift of Primus from the Primal Basilica and Metroplex ... Well, no matter the forces they could amass, they wouldn't come out as the winners.

Optimus didn't so much as wince when the altitude at which he was standing changed from sea level to cruising altitude in a matter of kliks as the city _rose_ to its gigantic _pedes_. He calmly stood in his friend's enormous servo, protected from and possible incoming fire by fingers as tall as normal human buildings. He listened to the water splash back into Lake Eire and was glad they had put up a protective forcefield to keep Detroit safe of a possible flooding. Or bomb attacks from the above. Or the Elite Guard landing on any more innocent parks. Oh, he was _enjoying_ the realization that they should have _never_ messed with him or his people. He had a responsibility to them. He had _sworn_ to protect them.

As the giant cityformer rose to his full height and the last of his plating fell in place, raising the hand holding Optimus to chest level with hiss of hydraulics, Optimus unstrapped his sword from his back, holding it in his right hand. The white, gray and black mech opened his optics with a bright flash, his big spark whirling behind impossibly thick plating as the Titan took in the would-be conquerers. Inside the HQ building - which was now located around Metroplex's sparkchamber, along with the Basilica, the Archives and the youth center - in Optimus' office, Megatron was gapping at the image of what was happening outside, not able to believe the input his optics were supplying his processor with. He wasn't the only one. The guests were fairly glitching. The Republic mecha _knew_ in _theory_ that Metroplex was a mech and that he could transform at any second if he wanted to, they knew that it was only thanks to him that Optimus had left Cybertron undetected and had traveled for about a thousand stellar cycles all over the universe, saving Cybertronians in need no matter where they were, but other than Elita, Arcee and Skyfire, no one had actually _seen_ the cityformer change into robot mode! The Camians were probably the least bit surprised, but that was more because the dominant emotion in them was actually _awe_ than because they were expecting this.

Optimus didn't pay attention to how he could feel all these roiling emotions running through everyone, instead raising his right hand over his head again. The sword split open once again and a pulse of pure energy shot towards the sky, dispersing the gathered clouds and even messing with the instruments on the ships. His spark was skipping harmonics in excitement. He didn't use this sword often. It was power given corporal form. It was addictive. It wasn't meant for everyday use.

It was a weapon of the Primes and it was gifted to him by Primus to help him on this journey.

Optimus honestly thought that the Autobots in front of him were all going to have a collective spark attack, that's how scared they were. His sword was still releasing energy in threat and in warning. He honestly thought that he couldn't scare them any more.

And then the _gigantic_ mech holding him opened his intake and spoke in a vibrating voice that shook them all to their protoforms with the volume he so naturally reached due to his size.

"Metroplex heeds the call of the last Prime."

And Optimus felt even more fear and awe and shock coming from the Autobots, from the guests, from _Megatron_, and retracted his battlemask so they could see just how feral his smile was, the clear predatory intent in his optics. He _felt_ them all reel back as though their consciousnesses were a part of his.

_If intimidation tactics is what Ultra Magnus wanted ..._

"My turn," Optimus Prime all but purred, bringing the sword down in front of his face, the charge now no longer targeting the sky but dancing over Optimus' whole frame as Metroplex engaged his own weapon systems and took aim at the Autobot fleet.

_Then intimidation tactics was what he was going to get._


	27. Chapter 27

**Thief**

**Summary: Ancient cities and artifacts of great power don't just disappear on their own! The number of defections rises. A group of washouts and a warlord wind up on a world unlike any they've seen before and the leader is interesting enough. Peace. Equallity. And no factions, put your weapons down, Primus damn it!**

For the good of all - and mainly because of Optimus' good will - the Elite Guard surrendered and even agreed to negotiating a truce with the Decepticins when they saw Megatron finding his way out of the giant mech so he can gawk at Optimus in person and thought that the Decepticons had allied themselves with such a powerful enemy.

Which was a good thing, as not a minute later, three command ships descended from the clouds over Detroit, the backup Megatron had called for to help the Republic mecha fight off the Autobots before he knew what the plan was for everyone but Optimus. He had convinced Soundwave to get Blaster to get the message across to General Strika, but it wasn't as though Optimus hadn't _known_! He had told his Intelligence and Communication Officers to make sure that message gets across no matter what, because he had seen an _opportunity_ the likes of which had never presented itself before. Unwittingly, both the Autobot Supreme Commander and the Lord of the Decepticons had come for _peace talks_. Optimus wouldn't exactly call it manipulation, but even if it was, he wasn't about to let this chance slip by and he'll gladly take that accusation if they somehow finally managed to achieve peace.

Not that it will be _easy_. Just getting Strika not to open fire upon either the Autobot fleet or the cityformer was already hard enough, even with Megatron ordering her to stand down. Tensions were high. There was a lot of 'bad blood' between the two factions, the two _species_ that were once one people, for them to just get over the need to blow the other up sky high and instead sit down and _talk_. But the ominous, looming presence of Metroplex was a good enough motivation, even if Optimus wasn't still holding his sword in servo, casually leaning against it as he watched the Autobot delegation arrive through his space bridge. All of Megatron's High Command had arrived with Strika on her command ship, but Ultra Magnus only had his Second in Command present, and so Optimus had insisted that he send a message back to Cybertron. The warframes won't exactly be thrilled to see the Council - or maybe they will; they'll finally be out of their little political chambers, out in the open for anyone to shoot down their past oppressors. He'll need to keep a sharper optic out for them - and vice versa, but Megatron had ordered them to stand down and fire only if fired upon.

He had given that order with a pointed look at Optimus and said red and blue bot had felt his spark warm all over in his chest. It would seem that not only had Megatron fully dedicated to keeping his promise, even when the numbers were technically on his side - not counting the damage Metroplex alone could inflict upon his gathered fleet (a _true_ fleet compared to the ragtag one the Autobots had brought) and Optimus' own involvement; there were a lot of Decepticon guests on Earth - but he seems not to have lost interest or started fearing or being in awe of Optimus, either. They'll probably have to talk about a few things, not that Optimus minded. He'll probably answer half of the warlord's question at the negotiations table.

Speaking of the negotiations ... Ultra Magnus, Sentinel Prime, Perceptor, Botanica, one Longarm Prime whom the pulses in Optimus' chest informed him was actually Shockwave of the Decepticons, Halogen (that was a surprise, since he had been retired for centuries before Optimus had left Cybertron), Sigil (another surprise, for much the same reason), Chief Justice Tyrest (ugh! A neofunctionist!) and, the whole selfish side of the reason Optimus had demanded the Autobot High Council all come to Earth, Alpha Trion all approached the clearing in which Optimus usually spent alone time with Galvatron and the Prime's chest felt like it might explode at the sight of the old red, gray and purple mech. From the other side of the clearing, Megatron, General Strika, General Scrash (he had _so_ many questions, for the _both_ of them), Lieutenants Blitzwing and Lugnut, Commanders Dreadwing and Skyquake, Tarn (oh boy), Blackout (seems Megatron was keeping to his promise, as this mech alone could disable the Autobots with one EM pulse), the whole gestalt team that made up Devastator and none other than Cyclonus (oh, will Tailgate be happy to see him!) also approached where Optimus stood in the middle with his own officers. Arcee, Elita One/Ariel, Slipstream, Dominus Ambus, Soundwave, Blaster, Hook, Hound, Drift (and Crosshairs acting as a sniper, just in case anyone tries any funny business), Smokescreen, Strongarm, Tailgate (who had been told by Megatron Cyclonus was coming and had practically _begged_ to be allowed to come along) and, to all of their collective displeasure since he was still _healing_ damn it, Skyfire in the Cybertronian version of a wheelchair, were all acting as Optimus' support and backup, no to mention as a role model government.

This promised to be entertaining.

As if that thought was some silent cue, Sentinel whipped out his shield and lance, the guards several steps behind powering up their blasters with a whine that was nearly drowned out by the sound of warframe weapon systems coming online and the growls from the Decepticons. Sentinel sneered, Elita hissed, Dominus growled, Tarn _snarled_ and suddenly Ultra Magnus had a bolt of lightning striking the center of the clearing, not ten feet from where the Republic mecha and the Decepticons were standing. Before Megatron's side could start shooting, though, Optimus stepped in front of them all, standing smack center amongst the gathered bots, an unimpressed look on his face as he reached into his subspace, activating the Transformation Cog with barely a thought so he can pull out the beautiful, big, golden hammer.

"Nice hammer," he commented to the Autobot leader with a grin as sharp as the Omnisaber. "Wanna see mine?" And without further ado, Optimus swung the hammer up over his helm before letting it land on a small pile of rocks in front of his pedes. The clearing was lit up as the rocks were suddenly reshaped into a beautiful but utilitarian table big enough to accommodate them all, square in shape so there was no accusations of anyone getting to be at the head of the table. Optimus wondered if the carved images of the Thirteen Primes and the ancient glyphs listing their names was perhaps a bit too much, but the guiding servo in this creation wasn't truly his, despite him being who had wielded the tool. "There, I think we can finally begin."

He looked to both sides and saw more than one jaw had dropped to the ground and he smiled at them all his most innocent smile that made him look anything but innocent. It just served to unnerve them as they _recognized_ the _only_ hammer, the only _relic_ capable of doing this and _stared_ at him in awed horror, in most cases, as they realized what _this_ had to mean. It was one thing to hear the Titan watching over them pledge his allegiance to Optimus as the last Prime. It was a wholly different thing to be confronted with the truth faceplate to faceplate. The implications behind his actions had always rang louder than anything he could have ever said or done outright. That was sometimes far more effective. It left people reeling. It left them guessing. It had far more impact when they realized the meaning themselves than when Optimus openly told them what was going on.

As it was, it left both sides of these unexpected peace negotiations wary of causing conflict. They all knew of the power a _Prime_ can hold. He could already tell that they were recalibrating their strategies of how they were going to go about these negotiations. They were probably just realizing that he won't be deceived or tricked. By _either_ side. It would be best if they forget such notions altogether.

His chest was warm with hope.

No one dared move for a while, just staring at the Prime, not sure what to make of him. To be expected. The last time Cybertron saw a Prime was long before the invasion of the Quintessons, millions of years before the Great War started. That Prime had even been one of the Thirteen original Primes who had fought Unicron and had built their society. After he disappeared, the Matrix of Leadership was passed around to bots who were deemed worthy to temporarily carry the sacred relic in their chest so they can lead their people. The last Primes before the Quinteson invasion had nearly been driven to madness because they were not built to withstand a direct link to Primus. After the Primal Basilica was sealed away, the Senate was the one who chose 'worthy' mechs to receive Primacy. The title was nothing more than a political calling that excused the actions of the Senate because they had a 'Prime' backing them up. The regime didn't last long, since the Senate wanted more power in their servos, so the Magnus title was brought in and Ultra Magnus was Cybertron's first supreme commander/ruler. The title Prime was reduced to a military rank bellow the Magnus and most of the young society on Cybertron didn't even know what a true Prime was _like_. But the bots here, now, were mostly old enough to have witnessed _one_ other form of Primacy than the military rank. Skyfire, Tailgate and Cyclonus might have even known some of the earlier chosen Primes if not a _true_ Prime as well. They knew the possibilities and they didn't dare move, barely dared to invent the atmosphere they needed in order to keep their frame temperature at a manageable level.

And then they all almost jumped out of their plating as laughter echoed throughout the clearing, all of them turning around to see Alpha Trion making his way towards Optimus. Said Prime's spark immediately warmed at the sight of him and his frame relaxed a little, the smile on his face turning genuine and gentle as the incredibly ancient bot came to stand before him. To the utter confusion of _everyone_, though, Alpha Trion smiled so wide they feared his face might crack as he suddenly drew Optimus into the biggest bear hug any of them has ever seen and Optimus returned it, fairly melting against the Archivist.

"Took you long enough, little slagger," Alpha Trion teased, much to Optimus' amusement and the further confusion of everyone else, even his officers who knew him best, even Elita, who knew him even better.

"Yeah, I got that impression from Primus, too. Thought it's not as though you guys couldn't have led me to the Matrix sooner! So you really have no room to complain."

Alpha Trion snorted at that and finally let go of Optimus, while the three groups of gathered mechs and femmes could just gawk. The Matrix ... Here? With _Optimus_? All this time?! "You'd be a right puppet for the Council if I had led you to it sooner, what with the slagging propaganda you grew up with. You were a pushover, you were content to serve the Autobot cause and didn't question your superiors. Not to their face, anyway. I decided to let you learn as much as you can about the real situation behind the words your generation is being fed so you can think for yourself and see the truth on your own. Besides, if I'm perfectly honest, I wasn't sure it was you, at first. After your disappearance, though, I was certain and I had a good laugh in the Hall of Records." He chuckled then, patting Optimus on the shoulder. "Though I will admit to some worry. You left Cybertron without your memories, after all. But I see that everything is in place now." The old bot then picked up the Forge of Solus Prime with an uncanny ease for a mechanism as ancient as he was. "I take it you have all the other relics here as well?"

"All of 'em, except for the Quill and the Covenant of Primus, which _you_ have," Optimus gave him a pointed look, but that was when parts of their conversation registered and the Autobots came to life.

"So _you're_ the Thief! You're the one who dared enter and raid one of the most sacred places of our species!" Chief Justice Tyrest pointed an accusing finger at Optimus like not even a sparkling of Galvatron's and Onyxflame's age would, a righteous glare in his optics. "You stole our relics and ancient artifacts! The sentence for the Thief has been decided to be death!"

"In absentia, I venture?" Slipstream sneered at the Autobot, fierce glare on her face as she came to the defense of one of her mentors. "How very like Autobot justice _that_ is."

"You haven't changed. In all these millennia, you haven't changed one bit," Strika snarled, making a step towards the functionism-oriented mech with the clear intent of dispatching him, but Megatron put a servo in front of her and growled a sub-vocal warning. The giant femme wasn't happy about it, but she didn't question her leader.

"It is not stealing if one takes what is their own, from a house that is their own," Optimus said with a calm that was largely at contrast with the volatile emotions from all three groups' EM fields as they crashed in the middle, only to be countered by Optimus' ever present serenity.

"How did you even get into the Primal Basilica?" Longarm asked, sounding curious when he was in truth frustrated. He had tried to get in and raid the building for the Decepticons himself, but had been unsuccessful. Primus had found his repeated antics immensely amusing. It was never good when gods were bored. Or demi-gods, for that matter, as Optimus knew from experience. The Matrix pulsed agreement in his chest, besides his spark, sending the ancient Primes' mischievous thoughts regarding that matter to its bearer. Both the ancient artifact of power and the Prime it had chosen were metaphysically rolling their optics at the childishness of eleven of the fifteen most powerful beings in existence.

"I got an invitation. I took it. As simple as that," was all the answer he gave except for the shrug that accompanied it. "It's not everyday a sealed building breaks its own seals just to grant you an audience with our Creator."

"This bot is clearly delusional," Sentinel said to the Council mecha, as if making an appeal. "It's obvious that this is just a waste of time. We should just take the AllSpark and get back to Cybertron. Let this ... _Republic_," the word was spat out like it was stale energon. Its representatives all glared death at him, even the always upbeat Tailgate looked away from his long lost sparkmate to glare daggers at the big-chinned mech. Even Megatron growled at the disrespect. "Rot and rust on this pathetic, worthless planet and just get this _over_ with. We don't need to make a farce of a truce with the Decepticons just because an Academy washout tells us!"

"No, Sentinel, you're right. You don't," the Academy washout said with a pleasant little smile that was colder than the vacuum of space, making the Autobots shiver as it was directed at them. "You can try to get the AllSpark - go ahead, I _dare_ you to - and you can leave anytime you want. But now that I'm no longer keeping it a secret as to what my origins are, I can invite all my people to come join the Republic. I don't need to worry about secrecy anymore. It means I'll be saving more bots from the famine going on on Cybertron as Primus stops giving you what you need to survive. Those who refuse to accept peace will starve to death and those who chose a clean slate can return to rebuild our world and have a good life on our planet. It's as simple as that. Primus appointed me the task of ensuring the survival of my people. The number of survived mechs didn't matter. He wanted our species to survive, he wanted to take it off of the course to extinction you've all placed it on," he said with a gesture towards the Decepticons, too. They at least had the decency to flinch. "So he told me to save as many as I can, to give them a chance at life, to take them far away from your war and wait out its inevitable ending: your _extinction_. And then we were to return and start anew. I was never happy with that plan, but I knew all along I can't possibly save _everyone_. How many have died of hunger under _your_ care, Councilors? How many more will have to offline before you're ready to accept that you are _wrong_, that your leadership is _warped_, that your ideals and your system is what's _killing our people_? Because the people have realized a long time ago and you've done your best to suppress their voices. I'm giving you one last chance to remedy that before I send you to your own slow, painful death myself."

"And who do you think you are, to speak to us like that?" Sigil demanded, clearly torqued off by the disrespect. Optimus looked him straight in the optics, unimpressed.

"I'm Optimus Prime, the last Prime, chosen by Primus and by the Matrix of leadership to ensure peace returns to his children."

"And what proof you have to confirm such illogical claims?" Perceptor asked in his monotone voice, face flat, no emotions in his EM field at all. Optimus could tell it was disturbing Soundwave a great deal more than the cassettedeck was showing. He sent his young Head of Intelligence a reassuring ping and had to fight off a smile at the offended note of the returning message. Soundwave had a serious issue with superiority. That, or he used it to frag off people who he doesn't like and to tease those who he considers family. It could be both, though. You never know with the telepath.

"You mean beside showing off three relics of the Primes and the hulking Titan standing right behind me, ready to roast your afts if you decide to attack me or mine?" Optimus challenged, but it was Ultra Magnus who answered this time.

"You have clearly stolen those relics. You could have used them to manipulate the Titan's loyalty just as easily."

Optimus glared at him along with his group, this time, before deciding that they _so_ deserved this when he sent a command to his chestplates and sparkchamber to open. "Alright, I'll give you proof. Just don't blame me for the consequences. It's _you_ who's asked for this." With his spark and the Matrix so exposed, he definitely more felt than heard the Decepticons move closer so they could see, too, so he arranged himself so both sides could get a good, long look.

The light of the Matrix of Leadership flooded the clearing as easily as it flooded Metroplex's Basilica every three months, when the Republic mecha came home to their capitol to receive its blessed energies. As the Autobots and the Decepticons are about to find out, the Matrix's energies turn into slow-burning fuel that will keep their tanks full for the next three months, taking away the need to refuel or intake energon for any other reason than because you want to. One of the main reasons that the Independent Cybertronian Republic had so much energon to spare was because their population never needed it. With the conclaves every three months, their tanks were always full, which allowed for energon to be freely used elsewhere, such as in trade, science or in Swerve's concoctions. The energies from the Matrix also healed even the wounds that had been mended wrong, no matter how long ago, leaving a bot's systems running at 100% efficiency. There was a reason why less than two dozen medics could keep a hospital operational. They mostly just pounded out dents and treated lesser wounds that would later be healed by the Matrix at the next conclave. Skyfire had been the only exception, refusing to let the Matrix extend his lifespan if it was his time to become one with the AllSpark. Optimus had still let energon be exposed to the Matrix's light and given it to him so he would be given a chance at survival. He had really wanted to grant Skyfire the chance to see Cybertron one last time if he was still to offline. Thanks to Ratchet, though, Skyfire might even get to live on his home planet a little while longer without Optimus needing to interfere.

The Matrix always left those who beheld it in awe. Not even Alpha Trion was immune to this effect. It was a direct link to Primus and no one felt it quite like Optimus did. He was the first and the last Prime that had the Matrix literally merging with his spark. There was no denying it that it was the real deal. Anyone who might try would only be making a fool of themselves.

Optimus Prime stood proudly, with arms open in a welcoming gesture, as the two waring factions and his own neutrals stared at his exposed spark.

From all the way, deep down in Cybertron, Primus purred with content as he felt the shift, the change.

Maybe he will get _all_ his children back.


	28. Chapter 28

**Thief**

**Summary: Ancient cities and artifacts of great power don't just disappear on their own! The number of defections rises. A group of washouts and a warlord wind up on a world unlike any they've seen before and the leader is interesting enough. Peace. Equallity. And no factions, put your weapons down, Primus damn it!**

"Well," Alpha Trion was the first one able to speak after Optimus finally closed his chestplates after a full breem of them all staring at the ancient relic nestled against his spark, practically hugging it like a lover. Of _course_ the Archivist would be the first to recover. "It seems that you've developed a strange new flare for the dramatics, brother."

And, as if what has been happening as of late wasn't shocking enough, the jaws of all three groups actually dropped to the ground as they turned to stare at the old bot instead of Optimus' now closed chestplates, only to realize what he had said and to turn incredulous gazes back to the Matrix bearer, who didn't look impressed.

"Oh, please," said Prime huffed with a roll of his optics. "You know slagged well that I don't have a dramatic circuit in my body. Our siblings' dramatics, though, _are_ contagious and I fear I might have been affected. I blame Megatronus and Liege Maximo _entirely_, though Prima should take some of the responsibility for it, too. Solus is somewhere between exasperated and currently cackling at your reactions, so she could shoulder some of the blame, too."

"Your _siblings_'?! You don't _have_ siblings!" Sentinel exclaimed, gawking at his former friend. Optimus only rolled his optics again, but any reply he might have given was cut off by a choked Cyclonus.

"You're a _Prime_!? One of the Thirteen!?" The purple, horned mech took a few steps forward, looking torn between prostrating himself before the demi-god brothers and skeptical disbelief that was constantly waring with awe. "But _how_? Which _one_?" He paused and then decided reverence _was_ the way to go as the answer to his question dawned on him. "_Thirteenth_. This one is humbled in your presence, oh youngest of Primes. Please give this one your blessing." Unsurprisingly, Tailgate and even the still weak Skyfire had followed Cyclonus example and breathed the same words in the old dialect now only known to be used in prayer, servos over their sparks, heads bowed but optics on Optimus. What _was_ a surprise was that Halogen and Botanica had also followed their example and said the same phrase. Alpha Trion seemed to have been expecting that reaction, but it still left the others reeling as they tried to wrap their processors around the fact that they were standing in the presence of a _Prime_.

"Wise Archivist, the Third of Primus' creations, please forgive our transgressions," Botanica then said, addressing Alpha Trion when the word 'brother' from earlier crossed her processor, surprised to not have noticed the old mech's true origins earlier, despite how often they spent time together, sitting in the same room for joors on end. Halogen, though, had known. He had been expecting this day, when Alpha Trion will introduce his returned brother to Cybertron, for the Covenant spoke of a Prime that will unite their people once more, like the Thirteenth united his brothers. Halogen had been able to read between the lines to know that it will indeed be the Thirteenth that will return, for he was the harmony and the heart of the Primes. He had been waiting for a long, long time, so he can finally fully retire and leave Cybertron in capable servos.

"Wait, what the Pit is going on here!?" Sentinel exclaimed, looking between the kneeling bots to the two reunited brothers. Megatron was staring at Optimus' in dawning realization, his Decepticons watching the two mostly red mechs in wary fascination and Optimus' inner circle were trying to wrap it around their processors that Optimus had managed to keep a secret like _this_ for so long from them all. "Why are you kneeling? That's just a senile old bot and a loser!"

"Silence, fool!" Snapped Skyfire, glaring so hard at Sentinel that the big-chinned bot actually did as he was told. He turned back to Optimus, optics filling with awe all over again. "I should have realized this from the start. I have lived with a chosen Prime and they were _very_ much mortal, needing fuel and recharge regularly. The Matrix could never sustain the people as it does when you bare your spark to us. I have been blind, my Prime."

"It's not exactly as though I _wanted_ anyone to know," Optimus admitted with a sheepish shrug. "I didn't really remember my past life. I still don't. I only get flashes here and there and most of them are from my siblings or from Primus through the Matrix."

"They are all there?" Trion asked curiously, for even though the Covenant of Primus had recorded that this day will come, the details weren't very clear nor were they liberal. He had very little information on how this day goes. All he knows is that Cybertron's future is decided on this day. Either way, their species will survive. It is the amount of sparks that will live that is different in the various scenarios.

The younger Prime nodded, tapping his chest. "They say they're waiting." They both knew what that meant, of course. Optimus was the last of the Primes. There will be no Primes after him. There will not be another Prime while he lives. Alpha Trion's quest was to find him and to help him on this day. When Cybertron's fate is determined, he will leave it in Optimus' servos and become one with the AllSpark, joining their siblings and their Creator. So it has been written before time began and so it shall be until time ends, for only _one_ Prime is to remain.

"You will never be alone," the Archivist said and Optimus smiled gently at him, servo splaying over his beating spark and the contentedly pulsing Matrix of Leadership, nodding his helm. He knew that. Primus had promised that to him one thousand and fifty stellar cycles ago, when his long since forgotten memories led him to his only means of escaping the planet and that promise has been kept ever since. Even when the god himself couldn't spend all his time conversing with him, his siblings had nothing better to do than keep him company, teach him things they had learned since time immemorial and tell him stories he should be able to remember but couldn't. They were a constant presence and they _loved_ to tease him or comment on everything and anything they experience through his senses.

"I know, but I don't think we've all gathered here today to talk about my Primely origins," he said before walking over to the table, Alpha Trion quick to follow, as well as the previously kneeling mecha although Tailgate and Cyclonus took the time to kiss the Pit out of each other. Optimus tried not to think of his own kisses just that morning, nor did he look to the source of a familiar, piercing red gaze when he felt it on his plating. He ignored Solus' and Megatronus' teasing and the gagging noises Amalgamous and Alchemist were making or the sneer of Liege Maximo and the cheering of Onyx and Nexus as best as he could, thankful that Vector and Micronus at least weren't commenting on his lovelife, though Quintus, ever the lover of life, was suggesting things that Optimus was definitely _not_ ready for. He hadn't even raised Galvatron yet, he wasn't ready for a sparkling of his own! Prima was merciful and even felt slight pity for his youngest sibling, though he _was_ intrigued by the prospect of possibly becoming an uncle. That also got the other Primes' attention. None of them had had sparklings of their own and they were disturbingly interested in the possibility of Optimus changing that fact.

He did his best to focus on the outside world, for his spark's and his processor's sake, so he wouldn't hear Primus' enthusiastic support of the idea of him and Megatron courting each other. For spark's sake, they've only kissed once! Or twice? Three times? Three _long_ make out sessions before he had to get him into his office so he wouldn't interfere with Optimus' plans. He couldn't really think about his eccentric family right now - oh dear AllSpark, what will Elita say when she learns about those kisses!? He's _doomed_! - he has to focus on the negotiations. This is quite possibly the last chance all Cybertronians will have at widespread peace.

"Then let's talk about how you've acquired yourself a Titan," Strika, bless her, went straight to the spark of the matter. Or, well, not really, but it was still a lot closer to what they _should_ be discussing than Optimus' strange relationship with Megatron and what it might or might not become. "From what _I_ know, all Titans have either offlined or went dormant and were lost to the vastness of space. The only known location of a Titan was Astroplex and that city has been ... Oh."

Optimus winced even as Metroplex rumbled with amusement not too far away. "Yeah. _Oh_."

"Someone mind explaining?" Longarm asked, looking between his (secret) side and the Prime now being surrounded by his inner circle as they recovered and went back to more familiar ground, namely their city. The Decepticons had also approached the table, as have Halogen and Botanica, so Longarm took his place there, too, since no one else from the Autobot delegation seemed ready to do so. "What do you mean by 'oh'?"

"Titans serve Primes. A Prime can rouse a Titan from their sleep," Optimus said. He gestured at the looming cityformer behind him even as he kept his optics on Longarm. "When I left the Primal Basilica, I knew I needed to get off planet as soon as I could. I couldn't steal a ship, nor could I use a space bridge, as that can be easily tracked. Thankfully, some flashes of my original memories remained so I was able to find my way to Astroplex and wake him up. He seemed to be up for a species-saving adventure and so we left with the use of his _own_ space bridge. We both decided he should take a new name, both to hide his true identity and to signify his return to this new, modern age, and he chose Metroplex. He's been Metroplex ever since."

"Well, that at least explains why you say this is _your_ city," Megatron commented, recalling some of his conversations with Hook. "It also explains your ability to remain hidden for all these stellar cycles. You just move all the time. Which also allowed you to reach bots in need."

"Precisely," Optimus said with a nod, giving Hook a very pointed look while subtly tilting his helm towards Hook's gestalt brothers. The medic very pointedly didn't leave Skyfire's side, who only rolled his optics at him and muttered something about youngsters

"So," Chief Justice Tyrest drawled as he, too, approached the table and the rest of the Autobot delegation finally gave in, approaching the table as well since it seemed inevitable. Perceptor went with the least resistance while Sentinel grumbled all the while. "Not only did you raid the Primal Basilica, the very symbol of our people's religion, you also stole Astroplex, the symbol of our glorious history."

Optimus stared at him with a blank face while everyone else could only gawk at him in disbelief. Then the Prime just shook his head and looked at Elita and Dominus. "I give up. They're _all_ yours." And with that, he turned to the Decepticon side so he can properly negotiate with them while ignoring the dread that filled the Autobot side as his leading scientist slash Amica Endura and his Head of Security slash former DJD member threw truly _nasty_ looking grins at the civilianframes.

The dual purred "With pleasure," may or may not haunt some of their dreams.

00000

When darkness fell, Optimus dismissed everyone and said the negotiations will continue tomorrow at ten in the morning before leaving for his quarters in Metroplex. The cityformer welcomed him by opening a panel for the Prime to go in before closing it, remaining vigil in robot mode while everyone else either returned to their ships or went down to the underground shelters. Optimus would like nothing better than to go back to how things normally were and have his peaceful city back in place, but, to be frank, he didn't trust the Autobots and the Decepticons to behave right now. A lot of things have been said today to not leave both waring sides very spiteful of each other and while he knew they won't start fights, that doesn't mean they won't find _other_ ways to create problems if not constantly monitored. The only other ones to return to Metroplex were Soundwave and Blaster and their cassettes so they can keep a better optic on the situation. They stayed in, though, while Optimus went out, going down to the shelters as there was a certain racer he needed to speak with about a certain Decepticon spy posing as the Head of Autobot Intelligence.

He ignored the ping from Megatron for now. The warlord can wait, for their confrontation promised to be a long one. He just informed the Decepticon Lord that he was a bit busy at the moment and that he will comm him as soon as he is available again. If the gray warframe is displeased by that, then that was his problem. He'll have to get used to the fact that not everything always goes his way.

He found Blurr with Swerve, where he had honestly expected to find him in the first place, the two watching in fascinated embarrassment as Cyclonus and Tailgate cuddled right there, in front of thousands of mechs and humans, completely uncaring of the world around them. Then again, there were several cubes around them so they might as well not even realize that they weren't alone. Optimus stopped to do a bit of his own staring, spark beating erratically as he remembered being held by big, gray arms against a broad, heavily armored gray chestplate before shaking his helm and focusing on the bot he was here for. Blurr seemed to snap out of his own longing thoughts just in time to see Optimus approaching him. He said bye to Swerve and sprinted - his slow, calm walk - over to the Prime. Optimus tried to ignore his - and everyone else's, for that matter - rather reverently awed optics as he gestured for Blurr to follow him.

The meeting between the Autobots, Decepticons and the Republic mecha had been as broadcasted to the shelters and off planet settlements as Optimus' stance against the Autobot fleet. Everyone had seen as Optimus' true, ancient origins were revealed and they were trying to peace together the mech they were used to to the demi-god plastered on several places in the carvings of the Basilica. Optimus didn't blame them for their struggle to do so. He didn't exactly go around acting like divinity. He had always made sure he treated his people as equals. Only fake Primes tried to appear above those that actually gave them power through their support and hard work. As a result, people got used to thinking of Optimus as one of the chosen Primes from before the corruption of the Council, before the Quintesson invasion, before the functionist regime. They never for a nanosecond thought Optimus might actually be more than he seemed at first glance. Thus, it was no surprise that they were in awe and trying to figure out if Optimus had given away any clues in all the stellar cycles that they personally knew him.

Elita One, especially, was having trouble piecing it together as she still thought of Optimus as that dorky friend of hers from their Academy days.

Though, most of her troubles right now came from Sentinel and Ultra Magnus finding out that SIC of the Republic, Ariel, was actually the long lost Cadet Elita One and she was dealing with the fallout of Sentinel learning she had once been part organic until Optimus used the Forge to purge said organic half. They had had quite an epic shouting match that had nearly ended with Ariel giving the big-chinned Prime a taste of her venom when he tried to put all the blame at Optimus' pedes. Her frame might have changed, her name might be different, she might no longer be an Autobot, but one thing always stayed the same: she was as protective of her Amica Endura as ever, even though he no longer needed her to speak up for him.

When Optimus led them topside, where now only enforcers and seekers roamed, keeping the streets and the skies safe respectively, Blurr finally asked why Optimus wanted to speak with him. The Prime looked over his shoulderstrut at the racer before gesturing for them to sit underneath this one huge tree that was as old as Detroit, if not older. "I wanted to talk to you about the Elite Guard. More specifically, about Longarm Prime." Had he been anyone else - like maybe Drift or Crosshairs - he would have laughed at the thought of calling Longarm a _Prime_ of all things, or maybe even sneered, and that was _before_ the entirety of the Republic, a good number of Decepticons and the Autobot High Council knew of Optimus' true, _ancient_ origins. The reactions now might be even less exemplary. Thankfully, he wasn't them and he wasn't as prideful as some of his siblings - talking about _you_, Prima, Megatronus and Liege Maximo - so he can rightly focus on his conversation with Blurr, which might turn rather _sensitive_ soon enough.

Blurr stiffened slightly, drawing his EM field tight against his protoform in an attempt to hide his emotions regarding the topic of conversation. Optimus offered him the mercy of letting him think he can actually hide something from a mech who carries an artifact that allows him to feel the emotions and experiences of _all_ of his people and instead watched as the Intelligence Agent tilted his head in an inquisitive manner that seemed a bit too practiced to be genuine. "What _about_ Longarm Prime is he in trouble because I don't think he's in trouble since he was the best behaved out of the Elite Guard and the Autobots in general so why would you want to talk about him?"

The red, blue and silver mech regarded Blurr for a long moment and hummed in interest. That was unexpected but actually the better outcome for this situation than he could have expected. A mixed faction couple, especially one involving a high ranking officer, is always good for strengthening peace treaties, truces and fledgling bonds being created by two previously opposing sides. And, if nothing else, it will bring the warframes onto the survival list of their species, given that Cyclonus was _definitely_ not going to be separated from his bonded ever again and Blurr seemed pretty set on his path. Not to mention whatever was happening between Megatron and himself, though he should withhold judgment on that until their talker later.

"Then I'll take a guess and say that you know that Longarm Prime is actually the Decepticon Lieutenant and Head of Intelligence, Shockwave, and that you don't care." Blurr stiffened all over again, looking ready to flee any moment, like with that first confrontation with the Elite Guard well over a week ago, so Optimus was quick to reassure him. "Hey, I'm not going to judge who you like and what faction they might be. There's no factions here, remember? I don't care if you like an Autobot or Decepticon or whoever else. All I care about is that my people remain safe and happy. Can he ensure your safety and happiness?"

"Longarm asked me to become his sparkmate," the other replied, as though that answered everything. In many cases, it would. But in this case ...

"Does he know you're aware of his true identity?" Blurr's silence was answer enough. Optimus felt his optic ridges furrow in worry. "Are you sure he won't react negatively to you knowing? He _is_ a spy in a very dangerous, high ranking place, not to mention that he's his faction's Head of Intelligence and a part of Megatron's inner circle. You don't know what he might do to ensure his secret is kept. I ... I don't want you getting hurt. You may have been a citizen for less than a week, but you're still _my_ citizen. I take care of my own to the best of my ability. That includes you."

Blurr remained silent for a whole breem, gaze averted, thinking something over and Optimus hushed the Matrix when it tried to whisper to him what the other might be feeling or how his thoughts were progressing. When the speedster had his thoughts in order, he met Optimus' optics again with absolute certainty and determination. "He asked me to be his sparkmate." That was all the answer he gave and that was all the answer he needed to give. No spy would risk their secrets being found out through a bond or during merging of sparks, where nothing can remain hidden between the two partners. And _no one_ \- not even the sadistic DJD members, according to Dominus, nor the supposedly emotionless Perceptor, according to Nautica - spoke lightly of a sparkbond. Which meant Shockwave had been ready to protect Blurr from both the Autobots and his own if it came down to it. Which meant he was dead serious about his relationship with Blurr. Which meant that he will not harm him or allow anyone else to do so, either. Blurr would be safe.

Decepticons took their promises _very_ seriously.

Optimus relaxed and smiled at his newest citizen - not counting the thousands of Decepticons that might end up potentially joining the Republic if the Autobots decide to scrap the negotiations and leave millions to starve to death for their pride - relieved on his behalf and extremely happy for him. "Then I wish you the best of luck. Shockwave is always welcome here. Well, as long as he follows the ground rules, that is."

Blurr beamed at him, his relief and happiness washing over Optimus both from Blurr himself and the echoes of his emotions from the Matrix. The ancient artifact did so love to shower Optimus in positive emotions as often as it could get away with so as to sooth any stress or sadness that might come from the task bestowed to him by Primus. The god himself purred in approval of another content spark, sending shudders through Optimus' frame and he did his best to keep his plating from rattling. Now was not the time for that. He politely declined Blurr's offer when the sky blue racer asked him to join him and Swerve and a few other bots for a few drinks and bid the former Elite Guard Intelligence Agent goodbye as he called out his wings and activated his thrusters. He was off in a few kliks, heading straight towards Metroplex's looming shadowed form and sending a ping to a certain gray mech.

He and Megatron had a few things to talk about.


	29. Chapter 29

**Thief**

**Summary: Ancient cities and artifacts of great power don't just disappear on their own! The number of defections rises. A group of washouts and a warlord wind up on a world unlike any they've seen before and the leader is interesting enough. Peace. Equallity. And no factions, put your weapons down, Primus damn it!**

Megatron was extremely thankful that he had managed to somehow make a good impression on Soundwave, because the young AllSpark creation didn't hesitate to lead him to Optimus' private quarters inside Metroplex, a path that Megatron himself would have never managed on his own without getting severely lost as the whole city, especially the HQ building that resembled Fortress Maximus, was _nothing_ like it usually was when it was in this state. The Prime's room was right next to the cityformer's sparkchamber, protected by thickest armor plating Megatron had ever seen, and though it was so close to such a big spark, its thrum was a pleasing, background noise in Optimus room and wasn't intrusive at all. It was actually rather soothing to hear that steady spark-beat as the ancient cityformer stood vigil and Megatron sat patiently in Optimus' small living room and waited for the owner of the quarters to arrive.

The room was furnished with nothing but stacks of datapdas and boxes that contained only Primus - or maybe it would be more accurate to say _Prime _\- knows what, a small receiving area with the couch Megatron was currently on and a chair an table for refueling next to the severely underused energon dispenser. He knew very little about the Primes of old, but he was still sure they needed energon as much as the next bot. Though, Megatron was sure Optimus himself didn't need it as the Matrix bearer. As soon as he had revealed the ancient artifact at the meeting earlier that day, Megatron had felt his tanks filling with the smoothest, most soothing, extremely rich energon that seemed to accelerate all his repair systems and left his frame feeling like he had just been protoformed. No aches, no pains, no discomfort. His systems were at a constant 100% functionality and his fuel levels haven't dropped by a micron since. If the Matrix had such an effect on those who only briefly got exposed to its energies, then Optimus Prime had no need of fuel.

The Republic's abnormal amounts of energon production suddenly made a lot more sense, as did the unbelievable amounts of excess fuel they used in trade or for Swerve's concoctions. Actually, half of the Republic's reputation suddenly made sense as the truth behind its leader was revealed.

Now, Megatron wasn't delusional as to say that all of Optimus' achievements can be attributed to his ... divine origins. Some of it, certainly, like providing his people with a place in the physical sense to live if they wished to run away from the conflict between the Autobots and the Decepticons. Or even whatever knowledge allowed them to cultivate energon crystals and to synthesize that Synth-En that he'd tried once. And, of course, the effects that the Matrix of Leadership had on the people when Optimus exposed them to it every three months. But you can't write off Optimus' achievement in maintaining peace and getting a seat in the Galactic Council on him being a Prime. The young (old?) bot was a good leader and cared about his people's comfort and wellbeing above all else. Megatron had been around long enough to see that the Optimus he had gotten to know wad the _real_ Optimus. He wasn't arrogant, despite his and Ratchet's first impression due to him calling himself Prime without knowing the reason behind it, he listened to the problems and needs of those who believed in him and followed him with a loyalty that would leave any commander envious. He kept his promises and was careful of the decisions he made because he's aware of how they will affect those around him. He's kind to a fault and he would give his life for his people.

He's so dedicated to peace that he's ready to isolate those who will never be ready to fully embrace it, no matter how much it had to hurt to let so many people die. The Matrix had to torment him about it and yet he did not falter. He knew there was no other way and yet Megatron could tell he was still searching for it desperately, for some way to save them all. He was either a masochist or so inherently good that he couldn't help himself. Megatron would guess the latter, though he wasn't sure if he will ever fully understand Optimus Prime.

Optimus _Prime_ ... Where did that leave _them_, the warlord couldn't help but question. It was him who had turned a chaste kiss to the cheek into something more and it was _him_ who _yearned_ for more still. But Optimus had returned all his kisses and hadn't seemed to mind being held ... But Optimus was also a _Prime_. The last Primes that had held any power had put up a front of chastity and innocence that no one had really believed in, since there were plenty of scorned lovers to gossip with anyone who wanted to blemish the oh so sacred Primes' names so everyone knew that was utter slag, but what about the _real_ Primes? Optimus was so far very casual with them all in any kind of interaction, but was he casual about interface? Was he allowed to have any sort of intimate relationship? Could he even merge sparks with the Matrix in his sparkchamber? Or bond? Did he even want to? Did _Megatron_? He had never really considered it before but Optimus had held him captivated since they first met, be it his protectiveness or his gentle manner when he wasn't threatening someone who might prove to be a threat to his people or how sweet he was with sparklings of any species. Megatron was startled to realize he _wanted_ to share his spark with Optimus. He had known thousands of mechs and femmes for millions of years and yet it was Optimus, whom he had known for only a little less than two months that had managed to capture his spark.

He wasn't exactly sure how he felt about that realization, but he knew he didn't regret it. Optimus was the first civilianframe to understand the difficulties of warbuilds and that had _acted_ upon it. He had found peace and Megatron had always wanted to give his people peace. Was it truly such a surprise that he had such a soft spot for the red and blue mech?

Said mech chose that moment to enter his room, obviously a bit surprised to see Megatron there. It made the Decepticon wonder if Soundwave and Metroplex had left out his location on purpose to surprise the Prime for once. He didn't look _too_ surprised so he had probably somehow known Megatron was here but was surprised maybe by the boldness of such a move? Though he shouldn't be. Megatron's been anything but shy since he arrived here so there was no need for Optimus to expect anything less.

"I honestly thought you'd be a bit angrier," the smaller mech spoke before Megatron could contemplate further his surprised state, surprising _Megatron_ in the process with the - rather silly - greeting and the meaning behind it. The warlord reset his optics once, staring at Optimus in shocked confusion.

"Why would I be?"

"Maybe because I didn't tell you about my," he trailed off and instead gestured a sweep of his chassis to make his point, raising an optic ridge at the warlord, who in turn only gave him a flat look.

"_Should_ I be? Because I don't exactly remember asking you whether you were a _true Prime_ in any of our conversations. It's not like you _lied_ to me," he paused, studying the way Optimus seemed to relax at his words and fighting off a smile at the thought that his opinion mattered to the again, everyone's opinion mattered to him. It's what made him a good leader. Still, the grateful look Optimus sent him ... Well, Megatron knew he was whipped the day he admitted to Hook that he wanted to keep that holopic of himself, Optimus and Galvatron napping together. That didn't change his earlier thoughts about the Prime, though, the questions that only the mech himself can answer. "Why did you keep that a secret, though? You'd have more citizens a long time ago, that's for sure."

Optimus only shook his head and sat down backwards on the chair so he was facing the warframe. "I wanted Metroplex to be a place of peace. I know there are religious fanatics, amongst both Autobots and Decepticons and the whole of Camian's population, but not all of them would agree to _peace_ and coexisting with each other. The Independent Cybertronian Republic has been built on the desire for peace and safety. Only those who are sick of war and conflict can stay or _choose_ to stay. If I announced I was a Prime, it's quite possible all sorts of mechs would want to join the Republic and my claims that anyone is welcome would look like lies if I turned them away. Even my being a Prime would be put in question and they might have killed me. Now, I don't fear for my life any more or any less than the next guy, but I do fear for our species as a whole. _This_," Optimus waved around them to encompass everything that made Metroplex, the Republic, what it was. "Was our last chance. Primus was sick of all of this death and if this war resulted in my death, no more second chances would be offered. The only thing standing between you and extinction is _me_. You kill me and you're _all_ dead. I didn't want to take any chances."

"Fair enough," the warlord conceded, grimacing at the word that had been his constant shadow since he searched and searched but never managed to find the AllSpark all these stellar cycles. It had hung over him like an ever present shadow and it had only left him be when he had seen warframe sparklings here on Earth. His spark still felt like a servo was squeezing it at the thought of his loyal warriors all fading away, but he knew there was a chance for their survival now. Even if the Autobots refuse to make peace with his people, the Decepticons can still make an alliance with the Independent Cybertronian Republic if they pull out of the war and stop whatever conflict might arise with the civilianframes. His people had a chance at survival and the only condition was that they give up unnecessary violence. And ever warframes can grow tired of war after millions of stellar cycles of it. They all just want to go home. If it will take another several thousand stellar cycles - as was likely, until all resources are spent and the Autobots are left to die slow, painful deaths if they do not concede - then they can be patient a little while longer. They have waited enough. "Though I _do_ have a question for you."

Optimus cocked his helm to the side in interest. "Oh? And what would that be? I may as well tell you anything now, since the most important secrets of the Republic are already out in the open."

The gray mech hesitated for a klik. "It's of a more ... personal nature, I guess." Sweet AllSpark, the way those audio finials perked up should _not_ be as cute as it was. This was a _Prime_, for Primus' sake! Primes were regal, untouchable, (should be) pure ... And, in a way, Optimus had been all that for as long as he had known him and he was only now realizing it, when Optimus felt more within reach than when the younger (or was he older? That's confusing already) mech recharged in his embrace. Now that there were no secrets between them, he felt like he could just reach out and Optimus would reach right back. Perhaps it was more his new, unwavering dedication to see this peace negotiations through, even if the Autobots botch up their side of the bargain. Maybe it was the result of those kisses. Or maybe it was just that Optimus didn't have to hide anymore and Megatron didn't have to restrain himself because he knew he'd have to leave soon. The thing that has been stirring between them finally had a chance to blossom and develop.

It left Megatron feeling like a newspark with a - what was the human word for it? Ah, yes. A _crush_. His spark was trashing in his chassis at the possibility of sharing his function with another, even if they could never merge or bond. It didn't matter. Oh, he'd _like_ to, that was for certain, but he preferred to have Optimus in his life in _any_ capacity than mourn something he might not be able to get. Though, he didn't know that, either. It's one of the things he had set out to find out tonight.

Optimus motioned for him to continue and Megatron carefully worded his question. "Just what kind of Prime _are_ you?" The other stilled at that, observing him with careful, guarded optics and the Decepticon Lord ventured a guess. "When we first met, I thought you to be an Autobot military Prime, despite what you and Hook told me about no factions and Metroplex not being a military outpost or colony or something. Then, as I learned more about this place and saw just how many responsibilities you had, I thought you to be a political Prime. But now I know that you carry the Matrix, which would make you a chosen Prime, yet you call Alpha Trion 'brother' and others call _you_ 'Thirteen'. I've never heard of one of the original Primes to carry the Matrix." He paused, trying to decipher what Optimus' thoughts on his observations were. He might as well be wearing his battlemask. "You're every kind of Prime ... aren't you." It wasn't really a question. It didn't have to be. It was obvious, when one looked over all that he knew about Optimus. The definitions and lines between the different 'kind' of Primes was blurred enough in the red and blue mech, but Megatron wasn't going to fall for the same masking method twice.

"Well," Optimus said with a sigh after a heave silence descended between them for a whole breem. "You're not wrong." He surprised Megatron by opening his chestplates, revealing the Matrix of Leadership to him for the second time that solar cycle. It was pulsing gentle light and warmth, warming the warlord to his very spark and some of the weariness that always hung onto him like a second shadow dissipated. "I'm the only of the Thirteen original Primes that carried the Matrix of Leadership in their sparkchamber. Prima used to carry it, but only in the hilt of the Star Saber. The Matrix was passed down to bots who could be worthy successors of me and my brethren, but they were not built to take on the Matrix's full power. Just having it rest _next_ to their spark was too intense and they didn't last too long. Several thousand stellar cycles at the most. Being one of the Thirteen Primes allows me to bear the Matrix merged with my spark, which in turn allows me to feel everything my people feel and that then influences my decisions. The Matrix also protects my spark from the overload of sensation that comes from every Cybertronian alive or dying or already in the Well of AllSparks. It helps me carry to the burden it has put on me in the first place." He sighed, a servo coming to brush the glowing relic before he closed his chestplates.

Megatron had to reset his optics several times to get out of his dazed state at being exposed to the Matrix's power twice in the past twenty four Earth hours. It was a very intense experience.

"You're not wrong about me being every type of Prime, either," Optimus continued when he was sure Megatron had gathered himself. "When the Matrix first merged with my spark, it changed a lot of things: my frame, my processor, my way of viewing the world ... But it also brought back impressions of my memories from my first life. I had merged with Primus' power and, along with the already fallen Solus and Liege Maximo and the volunteers Micronus and Onyx, we created the AllSpark. When Primus saw that our people were set on a course of definite destruction, he decided to give you lot one last chance. Alpha Trion would not be listened to, for he has not been listened to for the past several millennia, no matter how many times he tried to warn the Senate and the Council of the error of their ways. Prima and Megatronus would be too intense. Liege Maximo was partially at fault for the start of the War of the Primes and Solus was always more a creator than a politician and a leader. The others simply wouldn't be able to convince everyone of their heritage or wouldn't be suitable for leading so many bots. Primus settled for me, because I might not have led the Primes like Prima has, but I had _united_ them. It was more what our people needed than any leader. Separating me from the AllSpark when I was one of its founding points has damaged my memories beyond salvation. I only have some. The others are relayed to me by my siblings or Primus himself, if it is needed. Before getting the Matrix, I lived like any other bot of this time and I learned as much as I could, always thirst for knowledge, always wanting to make a change, some discontent always present in my spark but never understand why until the night I left Cybertron." His lip plates pulled into a sardonic, ironic, sad little smile as he recalled something. "At first, I didn't know _how_ to be anything other than a military Prime. I was raised in the military system of the Elite Guard, onlined with dozens of others, put through training and meant to join the army or maybe even the Elite Guard itself. The only experiences outside of the army that I had were the clubs and vars Elita and Sentinel would drag me out to or the Hall of Records. I didn't know anything else, so I fell back on my training. The first social structure of Metroplex was more military than anything else."

Which would explain why all the administrators carried practically military ranks instead of being treated like real politicians. Soundwave as the Head of Intelligence, Medical Officers like Hound and Hook, Dominus as the Head of Security and so on and so forth. It had been explained to him that since almost everyone was from one army or the other most of their lives, they had all decided to fall back on to the system that was the most familiar and make something not war related out of it from there. It had never occurred to him that this was decided so early in the Republic's history. Or that _Optimus_ would need it. He seemed so adapted to peace that Megatron had honestly thought the almost military-like system was to accommodate his citizens and not himself as well.

"When I started making alliances with other species and states, I had to take on a different role. It was difficult, but I managed to eventually become a decent spokesperson and politician. I'll admit some of your speeches had a great influence in my becoming the orator I am today," the Prime admitted with a sheepish smile, endearing him further to the leader of Decepticons and he returned the smile with a gentle one of his own. "The transformation had to take place not only in external affairs, but also in internal ones, especially as I gained more permanent citizens. I had to start shaping a political and cultural system and I knew we can't fall back to the military in _everything_. So we started changing things. It wasn't easy, adjusting to these new roles as Prime, or rather the 'Prime' roles they expected me to play. Skyfire and some of the Republic's older mecha were a miracle sent to me from the heavens, because they introduced the concept of _chosen_ Primes to the young bots, which in turn allowed for all the things I use the Matrix and the other relics for around Metroplex and the Republic in general. Their presence allowed me to fulfill more of my duties than you can imagine."

"But your real origins have remained secret," Megatron grumbled, wondering how hard that must have been. The original Primes were _demi-gods_. They were created by Primus to share his power in different aspects of existence. It couldn't have been easy for Optimus to push down his divine nature so he can better accommodate the expectations of his citizens.

"Surprisingly enough, I could be myself around the Quintessons," Optimus said with a grin at Megatron's startled expression, as though he had read his thoughts. And the shock at his words only made the Prime grin harder. "They were Quintus' creations and knew quite a bit about the other Primes, too. The second I appeared before the Galactic Council covered in these symbols," he gestured at the white, gently glowing ancient glyphs on his body. Megatron hadn't even noticed. He didn't usually spend any time with Optimus at night, or at least not in dark places. The lights in Optimus' quarters were dim, dim enough to reveal that those glyphs that half the time appear silver were actually _glowing_ with energy. Megatron wondered if anyone else had ever noticed this before, or at least of the guests if not the citizens who _must_ have by now. "They knew who I was. They still tried to give me some trouble, thinking I was weak because I was the sole Prime left, but you don't mess with a Prime, alone or not, when they carry the full arsenal of the relics of the Primes and their combined power in his spark. And since they already know who I am, I can be as Primely with them as I please. It's the only way to deal with them without the squids getting any ideas."

Megatron could on shake his helm, mystified by the strangeness that was Optimus Prime and yet finding his vindictive streak a bit adorable. It was obvious he had spent quite some time with Decepticons, former or not. Every self-respecting Decepticon would be out for retribution. Still, for all that the Prime had explained in his answer, the most personal part that Megatron wanted to know about was not at all touched upon. "And what about your relationships with others?" The Prime looked actually startled at the question and its boldness, but Megatron just shrugged at the incredulous look he received in turn. "Color me curious. The only Primes I've ever met were the political ones, stating to be religious leaders and representers of Primus' own will so they were 'pure' and 'untouched'," he said with a roll of his optics and the air quotes the humans loved so much. It seemed appropriate for the occasion. Humans had such oddities in their culture but Megatron would be lying if he said they weren't awfully amusing or artfully clever. For such a young species, Earthlings may just be the most interesting organic beings he had ever met. He might even like them. They were quite adaptable.

Optimus snorted at his words and gestures, clearly amused, if not a bit disgusted by the doings and claims of former, fake Primes. "You shouldn't believe everything you hear or read. I can _obviously_ make bonds like any other mech. Elita One is my Amica Endura, Galvatron has initiated a caretaker bond with me and I have several mentorship bonds with Slipstream and her brothers - though I kind of share that with Skyfire - Strongarm, Smokescreen, Soundwave, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe and a few others you haven't met as of yet. And Metroplex and I have a special bond between us, too."

"But have you ever sparkmerged since you received the Matrix?" Because, from the stories he heard and from how well he understood them, implications and all, Ariel and Optimus had been Amica Endura long before Optimus discovered his true nature. "Can you do it with that glowing bauble in your sparchamber?"

Optimus fell silent, his gaze wandering away as he got lost in thought. Megatron just sat there and waited, wondering what response he might get. He did _not_ expect for Opzimus to look back at him with this intense look in his optics, stand up from his chair and cross the room to seat himself in Megatron's lap instead, never breaking optic contact. The silver-tongued orator that had rallied millions of mechs could only gawk, speechless, at his companion's reciprocated boldness. This was beyond surprising and unexpected. He wasn't exactly sure why, as not even a full twenty four hours ago, Optimus had shown that he returned his interests and the Prime was no blushing femmeling with her first crush. This really shouldn't be as much of a shock.

His proposition, though, had every right to stall the airflow in Megatron's fans. "Want to find out?" And that grin, part teasing, part seductive, part challenging and part hopeful should _not_ be as endearing as Megatron found it to be. His engines revved in answer and Optimus let out a gentle laugh, already unlocking his chest plates for the third time that day, but Megatron hesitated.

"What about ... ?" He didn't finish, instead letting his optics slide towards the light already escaping the slightly parted transformation seams.

Optimus just smiled at him and leaned up to peck his lip plates. "The Matrix may be merged with my spark, but you will feel only me. It knows not to interfere with my bonds if they are not ones I share with my siblings or Primus."

"And will _they_ mind?" He'd rather not find out the hard way when an angry (demi) god smites him for daring to touch the youngest, Thirteenth Prime. From Alpha Trion's and Optimus' brief conversation, it sounded like Optimus was well loved and had been long since waited for. They might not appreciate a lowly mortal gladiator besmirching their sibling/creation. Megatron only knew two siblings, the spark-twins Dreadwing and Skyquake, and they were very close and _very_ protective of each other. It would not do to anger divine beings. Not that _that_ was enough to make him reconsider his interest in Optimus. He would be lying if he said he wasn't tempted to torque off a few Primes and their oh so benevolent Creator that was ready to give up on them so easily.

Then again, they'd probably been ticking off Primus for billions of vorns by now. Even a god had to give up at some point.

"Why do I get a feeling you might actually _like_ that?" Optimus, damn him, was grinning in amusement, obviously having figured him out. Well, that just won't do. He leaned down and devoured the smaller mech's intake with his own derma and glossa before pulling back, leaving the Prime panting to keep himself from overheating with how much his vents were struggling to cool his frame. Megatron nipped at one of those adorable, enticing finials and throughly enjoyed the shudder that ran down Optimus' frame as he unlocked his own chest plates.

"Why don't you find out for yourself."


	30. Chapter 30

**Thief**

**Summary: Ancient cities and artifacts of great power don't just disappear on their own! The number of defections rises. A group of washouts and a warlord wind up on a world unlike any they've seen before and the leader is interesting enough. Peace. Equallity. And no factions, put your weapons down, Primus damn it!**

The next time Megatron landed in Metroplex, it was for the very first wave of sparklings since the cityformer returned to Cybertron and he was, as always, greeted by Dominus Ambus with a big, sharp grin on his dermas. To be expected. It has been barely a year since Metroplex touched down on Cybertron's surface after a long one thousand and fifty stellar cycles of traveling through space and making a home on Earth. They all still expected either the Autobots or the Decepticons to change their minds and for the war to restart again, so the former (for now, if things remain good) Republic was ready to flee at any moment. Dominus, still the Head of Security for Optimus Prime, had taken it upon himself to greet either of the former factions' High Command whenever they come for a visit, uncaring for the Magnus' platitudes that they meant no harm or Megatron's amused huffs at the new procedures. They may be back on Cybertron, but every last citizen of the Independent Cybertronian Republic had remained every bit as loyal and as protective of their Prime as they had been on Earth, before they knew about the truth of his origins. Ultra Magnus found it annoying and insulting while Megatron found it reassuring. After all, many of his people were citizens of the peaceful state and he knew, should the worst come, warframes won't go extinct even if the Decepticons do. It lifted a great weight off of his shoulderstruts.

Metroplex shone in its - or rather his - grace and magnificence as much as it ever did. The cityformer had easily transwarped itself back to the sky above the crater he and Optimus left behind over a millennium ago and had then proceeded to take back its place without ever disturbing the contents of the lives of the millions of mechs and femmes who had lived in him for so long. When he had folded back into his alt mode, everything was as everyone had left it and the Republic mecha just continued their lives where they had left it off weeks previous. It had taken nearly three months for everyone to come to an agreement they could all accept and the immense arguing that's been going on in that span of time only finally stopped when Optimus finally came to one of the meetings with his sword - the Hunter, as Alpha Trion and the younger Prime called it - in hand, the Star Saber strapped to his back and the Requiem Blaster strapped to his forearm. Apparently, yes, even Primes had their limits where patience was concerned and the two arguing factions had long since overstepped it. The glow of the Star Saber, the indecently loud humming of the Requiem Blaster and the crackling energy dancing over the Hunter as Optimus casually leaned on it served as the best deterrent to diffuse all that arguing and Optimus was not above using it.

Alpha Trion had greatly approved, having lost any patience for the warring sides before any of them were even onlined. Realizing that there was a mech who knew what he will think before he even thinks it unsettled Megatron enough that he made sure never to torque off Alpha Trion, something most of the others understood, too. Fools like Sentinel and the ever zealously loyal Lugnut have yet to get the memo, though, so they still often clashed with the Third Prime when he bothered to grace them with a response.

After that, they soon managed to come to an agreement - after both Autobot and Decepticon High Council and High Command respectively learned that Optimus _will _ask 'What about us?' very often to encompass a _lot _of meaning in so few a words for very different topics and will more often then not respond to their options offered to that question with 'None of the above,' as appropriate or satisfying responses and options and would argue his point until the other party is _exhausted _and just accepted the far more reasonable solutions the two Primes might come up with, as was expected of the two ancient beings; Megatron always found it quite amusing to watch his lover tear them all a new one and rebuild their world in the image of Metroplex's success. It was impressive and always left him a bit charged after these meetings; thankfully, Optimus never refused a good interface - and the Republic packed up in record time and the space bridges opened to let the Decepticons back to their home planet. The Republic mecha had spent the longest saying goodbye to their human neighbors and friends and some of them had even decided to stay with their human partners, like Barricade did with Captain Fanzone and his family, and where Barricade went, Franzy followed. The Constructicons stayed, too, so they could build several space bridges on Earth, the Moon and the planets they most often excavated materials from. Several miners stayed, too, to help the humans in mines that were too dangerous for them but too complicated for drones to work efficiently in.

Some of his own Decepticons had decided to stay on Earth, fascinated by their militaries and how they enforced peace and stability. With Barricade around, no one will dare try and start up a fuss between the human countries. Bulkhead stayed with Sari, too, since the girl will no doubt have a Cybertronian lifetime but her father won't so she was staying with him and Bulkhead was staying both for her and for the space bridges. Bumblebee wouldn't leave his two friends behind, so he was staying with them until Sari was ready to move to Cybertron. Barricade was very happy that he got more chances to court the yellow speedster, who had _still_ been oblivious to Barricades attentions the last time Megatron had seen him at a conclave. Ambulon stayed as well, as did Red Alert, so at least they had medics. The Dinobots had both surprised everyone and not at all when they decided to stay on their island, though they were sad to see Ariel go. The femme made trips back to Earth twice a week for them, as well as the twice a month trips the rest of High Command had to visit their dearest allies. They also had to check that the mechs that had stayed behind had enough energon and all the resources they need to live happily there, though with the conclaves still taking place every three months, the Republic mecha were set for life where energon was concerned. That didn't stop the mechs on the Moon from cultivating more crystals. They loved their job and were reluctant to leave their farms after so much hard work.

Since they had so much energon to spare still, Optimus kept a bridge for them open all day long so they can come to Cybertron or go down to Earth whenever they like. Optimus' generosity still knew no bounds and it only endeared him to any new bots he met from either former faction. He didn't pay attention to the badges adorning most of the mechs' frames, still, and treated them as kindly as he did everyone from his own Republic. Megatron had a suspicion that, should this peace fall to ruin, half of both factions at the very _least_ will leave with Optimus to avoid the new war. Thankfully, though, the Autobot High Command seemed as aware of that as he was.

The Council was still in power, much to everyone's distaste, but even their own lackeys weren't really sticking to the rules and laws they were trying to enforce on the public. From Cybertron to the farthest colony under either Autobot or Decepticon control, everyone knew a true Prime was walking in their midsts and they followed _his_ rules. There were still fanatics on both formerly warring sides, it would be a lie to say otherwise - especially with his own DJD that was still reeling at Dominus' change of faction and his content to stay in Optimus' inner circle instead of going back to being a murdering monster everyone fears - but most of their people were forgetting all about Ultra Magnus and Megatron or the Council that they were supposed to listen to or something. They were all slowly losing power and influence and, for once, Megatron couldn't be happier about it. Sure, his word still carried a lot of weight and his decisions were adhered to, but he knew that, should he call for war right now, people would be hesitant to answer the call and it wasn't only because of the fear of Prime's possible retribution. His spark skipped in excitement every time word reached him that more and more people were putting a stop to mindless obedience of the Council or the Elite Guard. 'Civilians' or soldiers, even the Autobots have long since gotten sick of the regime they had been forced to live under and they wanted to peace and freedom Optimus provided to his mechs.

The cultural and religious center shifted from Iacon to Metroplex - formerly Astroplex - in a matter of groons. Megatron wasn't exactly sure how, but the Primal Basilica and the Hall of Records one day just disappeared from the Autobot capital and appeared overnight in the main city of the Independent Cybertronian Republic, only a bit on the outskirts. Seeing as Optimus was the Thirteenth Prime and that his brother, the Third Prime, Alpha Trion, the Archivist, were both in Metroplex now, they did something and both Vector Sigma and the Well of the AllSpark shifted, in the middle of the day, right before millions upon millions of watching optics, until they were both open on the outskirts of Metroplex, not even a full two miles away from the cityformer. Optimus refused to let the AllSpark leave his protection and claimed authority over its use. Megatron wanted to argue, and the High Council _had_, but he saw Optimus reasoning even before the Prime had stated it.

"Not only am I its designated protector by carrying the Matrix of Leadership and as such sharing a connection with it through Primus, and not only am I one of the Primes who had had a hand in creating it, but you have _both_ used it or attempted to use it in your war. The AllSpark is life, it _creates_ life. You only know death. Until you learn how to _live_ again, it's staying with me."

It's not like he was _hogging_ the artifact all to himself, either. The AllSpark was returned to the Well the day after Metroplex settled and the Well shifted to rest practically next to it and all of Cybertron lit up again at its return, billions of free sparks flying all over the planet before returning to the AllSpark and the Well fell quiet again. Only today was it lit up again, as it and Vector Sigma created the first generation of newsparks in well over a very long vorn. As Dominus and he walked closer to where an entire ceremonial festival was taking place for this occasion, Megatron could hear the excited chatter of millions of bots gathered to bear witness. Many of them were bots who wanted to mentor or take care of sparklings and either couldn't have their own or didn't have a partner yet to create one.

He wasn't at all surprised to see Ratchet and Drift (formerly a member of the Primal Vanguard before he became the Decepticon Deadlock, one of his deadliest assassins ever and then just defected one day, though Megatron suspected he knew why, now, and that the former Autobot medic might have something to do with it) holding servos as they waited in line to maybe get a sparkling to care for. They had bonded not long after Metroplex settled back on Cybertron and it only made sense they wanted a sparkling of their own. Ratchet was an old bot and civilianframes weren't exactly constructed to remain as sturdy and as unaffected by time as warframes were and Deadlock had been through some missions that maybe not even a Phase Sixer would return from, so it was very unlikely that either of them could safely carry a sparkling. They, like some other couples, have rested their faith and hopes in the AllSpark and were waiting for their turn. He saw Cyclonus and Tailgate waiting somewhere further up in the line as well, and was even less surprised. Those two were ancient. Tailgate might have been in stasis for who knows how many stellar cycles, which slowed any effects time and the outside world would have on his frame, and Cycolnus was a warframe, but their sheer age must have taken their gestation protocols offline by now. No mech, no matter the circumstances, can be fertile forever. And there were Strika and Lugnut, shifting uncomfortably from pede to pede amongst all the other waiting couples, practically looming over them. Some of the bits still carrying Autobot badges gave them a wide berth.

And that was _nothing_ compared to Tarn and Nickle, since _everyone_ avoided the leader of the Decepticon Justice Division and their crazy medic that didn't fear threatening living weapons of mass destruction with a welding torch. Medics were all just crazy, but the little femme was a league of her own. Though he wondered if Overlord missed Trepan. Now _that_ was a nightmare of a couple.

But not only couples wanting a sparkling were there. Megatron saw Shockwave at one of the refreshment tables Swerve and his coworkers from his bar had set up, watching protectively as that little blue racer he had bonded with talk with the excitable bartender. Blurr was his name, if Megatron remembered correctly, the mech that had become a citizen of the Republic just days before the Elite Guard tried to make Optimus yield. The little speedster was already halfway through his gestation cycle and only a few more decacycles until Shockwave becomes a sire. Megatron still remembered the shame that had colored his spy's EM field as he admitted he loved Blurr too much to _not_ offer to bond with him while he was still infiltrating the Elite Guard as Longarm Prime. He couldn't blame his loyal Lieutenant for falling in love. Not when his own spark yearned for another.

No, Shockwave and Blurr weren't here for the sparklings. They were here to enjoy the festivities only true peace could afford and to give support to their friends. Though Shockwave seemed to be taking great delight in watching Slipstream beat Blitzwing away from her trinemates when the tripplechanger tried to flirt with them. Barricade and the other mechs that still lived on Earth had come to Cybertron for the celebrations, though the enforcer kept giving that yellow racer, Bumblebee, these certain looks every now and then and was growling at some beastformer that looked a lot like he had a cyberwolf alt mode. Pit, even the Dinobots were here! And as he watched Ariel wave Dominus over with a bright smile he had never seen on her before, Megatron became aware of just how many individual fates he knew of, of just how many people's fares he _cared_ for. He hadn't expected to find himself caring for so many people, _individually_, all at once. They weren't just a faceless mass that he knew he had to take care of because they were his people. Fragging Pit, he had become incredibly close friends with some of them and he was only realizing it _now_, as he watched Hook and his gestalt brothers brag to Knock Out (who was also carrying, to his mate's great delight), Breakdown(who was said proud sire), Ambulon, Fixit, Soundwave and Blaster and their cassettes about what kind of damage Devestator could make or as he watched Sunstreaker and Sideswipe organize races with Bumblebee and Wasp and dozens of other mechs now that the undefeated Blurr was not risking a race in his delicate condition while Red Alert was having a processor meltdown about it with worry. He looked over to Skyfire conversing with Skyquake about his life before the war with the Quintessons while Dreadwing was watching the fiery femme seeker that was currently pounding Blitzwing into the ground with keen interest that Megatron recognized.

Pit, even Starscream - who had been set free only last month after he stopped plotting revenge and instead started negotiating the rebuilding of Vos - seemed to be enjoying himself as he tried flirting with the Camian Ambassador, Windblade if Megatron wasn't mistaken, while Nautica, one of Swerve's colleagues and said ambassador's Amica Endura, along with Chromia, the _other_ Amica Endura, were glaring daggers at him for it. Arcee had found a mate of her own, a teal colored motorcycle by the name of Moondancer, also Camian in origin, and poor Prowl, the chief enforcer of Metroplex now that Barricade was staying on Earth, had found himself at the mercy of Lockdown's attentions. Who knew Lockdown had a kink for slim two-wheelers who can cuff him and slam him down despite not being half his weight? And who knew Prowl had a dominance through riding a spike kind of kink? And who knew _Jazz_ had a voyeur kink!? Swindle and Swerve really need to stop gossiping so much. The Minicons seemed delighted to be back on Cybertron and reunited with their brethren that had stayed to take care of Trypticon prison, which was once again Megatron's and his High Command's fortress in Kaon. Smokescreen and Strongarm had found themselves suitors as well, though they were still too young to either bond or take care of sparklings.

Even the Elite Guard that was here seemed to be having a good time. Ultra Magnus kept being dragged around by one of his protégés, an energetic orange, yellow and red mech that seemed to be as excited as the sparklings and younglings were. Sentinel was grumpy in the corner as he glared at Dominus when he put a big, clawed servo around Ariel's waist - can you _believe_ she used to date _Sentinel_? The Republic certainly hadn't. Pit, even Halogen was here, seemingly searching for someone. Megatron had no doubt it was Alpha Trion. Those two had seemed close. He'd heard rumors that Botanica might come and that she had a crush on Crosshairs - who apparently had a deep and long history with her, when they were much younger, before they picked up their respective carriers - but he didn't see her anywhere and Crosshairs seemed content to chat with Hound and some of their Aerialbot friends that Megatron had maybe spoken to only once, if even that. Maybe Botanica _had_ been here and Crosshairs had brushed her off? Everyone knew how he was chased off of Cybertron and that the Council was mostly at fault. Crosshairs had made his stance well known. It wouldn't be a surprise that he wouldn't give her a chance.

Everyone he knew seemed to be here except the two divine individuals of their community. He couldn't see the two mostly red bots anywhere, but he knew the Primes wouldn't miss out on a day like this. They had both fought hard to restore peace, harmony, equality and freedom to Cybertron for far too long for them to bail on the first major pancybertronian celebration in millions of stellar cycles. It made no sense that they were absent. Megatron walked around some more, noting that Halogen seemed to be following him at a safe distance, no doubt thinking Megatron might know where the Primes might be due to his ... relationship with Optimus.

And as though summoned by his thoughts alone, he finally caught sight of red, blue and silver plating, the white glyphs that marked Optimus frame glowing dimly as they tended to do almost all the time these days, standing right next to the edges of the Well. He turned around when he felt Megatron approaching and smiled at the former warlord.

The first thing the Decepticon noticed was that, for the first time since he'd met Optimus, the other had a badge of some sort, and right over his spark on his chest plates, though it seemed perfectly capable of being removed. He wasn't an expert, but he could have sworn it was a simplified, stylized version of the Second Prime's face. Vector Prime, the supposed co-creator of Vector Sigma along with Solus Prime, its architect. He'd never once seen it in person, but he knew the Autobot badges and the Decepticon brands were far from original. Almost all of the original Primes' faces had been stylized by the First Generation, as to never forget those that had created and nurtured them. The Autobots had Prima's scowling face and the Decepticons carried Megatronus Prime's glaring visage as he was the first warframe to Prima's first civilianframe, despite him having a weapon as mighty as the Star Saber.

The second thing he noticed about the mech that his spark sang for was the three strange items in his servos. An organic-looking book that seemed so ancient that it might just fall apart if it's touched the wrong way, a writing utensil he had seen humans using in history documentaries and a strange metal diskette the likes of which he had never seen before. All three items glowed lightly in Optimus' servos, so he guessed them to be some ancient relics of the Primes.

And that's when he noticed the single track of coolant that had traveled from Optimus' left optic down his face, despite the smile on his lip plates. He recalled a long since almost forgotten conversation from a year ago and he knew what had happened even before Optimus said anything.

"Vector Sigma is activated, so we're ready for any newsparks any klik now. Alpha Trion left," he said, pausing, looking behind Megatron at the frozen still Halogen. "He wanted his experiences and knowledge to influence the new generation. He wanted to give them a thirst for knowledge so they never fall into the state our society has been stuck in for so long because people enjoyed their ignorance. He didn't want to say goodbye," the firetruck gave the shocked and disappointed Councilor a small, sad smile. "He said he'll see you when All Are One, so there's no need to." He hesitated before taking out a datapad and giving it to the old mech. "Brother wanted you to have this. He wanted for you to pick a sparkling and teach them everything you know, as well, because 'Cybertron needs more competent politicians to represent the civilianframes to counter Shockwave as the representer of warframes and Dominus Ambus as the representer of the Republic mecha', to quote his exact words. I'm sorry for your loss," the red and blue Prime said at last and stepped away as soon as Halogen had a good grip on the precious datapad. Megatron wondered what was on it and why Halogen seemed so saddened at Trion's departure to the Well.

"And I, yours, Optimus Prime. Please excuse me," the Counciler shuffled off, his proud stature suddenly appearing very hunched and showing off just how old he was. The pair watched him scamper off before the warframe looked down worriedly at his companion.

"Will you be alright?"

Optimus looked up at him and smiled again, though there were no more traces of coolant tears on his faceplates. "I'll be just fine. I knew this will happen. And it's not like I can't feel him anymore or speak to him. I'll miss being able to hug him, though," he admitted with a shrug before grinning sheepishly up at Megatron, who lifted an optic ridge. "Though, I always have _you_ for that, so I guess it's all fine."

The former warlord huffed good-naturally, amused. "If that's all I am to you, at least I should be a bit honored to be able to replace a Prime."

Optimus snorted and stored away his new acquisitions into his subspace just in time as two little bodies crashed into him. Megatron's servo shot out to steady him before the startled Prime might fall over even as he laughed at Galvatron's and Onyxflame's excited chittering about all the new things they had seen while exploring the festival and its celebrations. He hated living so far away, back in Kaon, when he had a family, as the humans called it, right here in Metroplex, but he visited three times a decacycle and saw them often enough that no one protested. It was only a temporary situation, anyway. There was still much work to be done. Optimus refused to let anyone with a faction symbol live in Metroplex permanently until five stellar cycles have passed that Cybertron was at peace. The policy of guests was still very active. The Republic's permanent citizens still got their energon through bearing witness to the Matrix of Leadership every three months while Primus finally, slowly started to let energon reappear in mines and on the energon farms now that his creations weren't killing each other anymore. It will take their planet and their people a long time to recover from what their war had did to them. When the peace is finally secure, maybe they can all live like the mechs in Metroplex do. Megatron hoped more than anything that it will happen soon.

He had a certain question to ask Optimus, after all. But now was not the time, as everyone gathered around the suddenly brightly glowing Well of the AllSpark as sparks started traveling into Vector Sigma. It took a full twenty breems before the first sparkling climbed out of the spiraling path that led from its creation spot to the surface and it chirped at the gathered mecha, soon followed by dozens of others, in all shapes and sizes and frame types and a thundering cheer echoed from the crowds, soon turning into one name. Megatron proudly put the mech whose name they were chanting like a prayer, laughing along with Optimus as the Prime was celebrated for the hero he was. After all, it took quite a bit to produce peace out of the conditions Optimus had found them all in.

They were all cooing at the cute little sparklings as they wandered nearer to the adults, choosing seemingly at random mech they wanted to be picked up by. Megatron could hear Lugnut roaring in triumph as a set of twins chose him and Strika didn't even bother to reprimand him for his poor manners. Nearby, Ratchet was holding a cobalt blue sparkling with blue optics and electricity jolts traveling down his arms. He and Drift will have quite an interesting time with that one. Dreadwing spluttered as a set of triplets dragged him and Slipstream together, two femmes dragging him over to the little mech that refused to let go of the femme seeker, the three spark-siblings arguing over each other about who would be best. Cyclonus was holding a sparkling in his big hands, too, while Tailgate was on his shoulders and cooing down at their new family member, the horned mech utterly stunned that something so small would choose him. Hook and his gestalt brothers were gawking at the pink minibot sparkling that had apparently chosen them and Lockdown was trying to run away from a lime green sparkling while its orange twin seemed quite content in Prowl's hold, embarrassing the Cyberninja. Swerve was already talking the little bitlet that had wandered over to him audials off, promising they will make the most popular bar in the whole universe while Nautica and that shark-like companion of theirs that Megatron had never actually learned the name of. He could see plenty of others receiving sparklings all around them but he had to admit that Barricade's and Bumblebee's fainting spell when an obviously warframe femmeling had taken both their servos decisively was hilarious. Franzy certainly agreed, seeing as he was cackling like crazy even as he held his partner's sparkling close. They'll probably be all over the extranet before the joor is up. Megatron wondered how Fanzone will take the news. If he remembered correctly, the blond policeman had his own sparkling to take care of already and he might not be ready for his partner's, too. Soundwave and Blaster seemed relieved that no sparkling chose them. Their cassettes were big enough of a handful.

"I shall name him Minimus Ambus!" Came Ariel's voice from beside a flabbergasted Dominus, who was staring at the little light teal colored mechling in her servos as she winked teasingly at the beastformer. Tarn was grumbling at him from a few steps back, indignant to not have gotten a sparkling of his own this time around. Blitzwing, obviously suicidal judging from the way he held Sunstorm and Ramjet so close, added to his death wish list by laughing at the former Agent 113 of the DJD. Talk about insane.

Megatron was startled out of his thoughts when he heard twin frustrated beeping down at his pedes and him and his family all looked down to see two little mechs, one cream and orange while the other was in two shades of blue with a visor, both sporting blue optics but their frames wasn't exactly civilian in design, as they were considerably larger than civilianframe sparklings that ran past them. Galvatron beeped at them in annoyance, trying to shoo them away while Onyxflame flew down to poke the quieter blue one in his chubby cheekplates. They were smaller than her, but not by too much.

Optimus and Megatron exchanged a look before the former warlord reached down for the twins, only to flinch back when they screeched an angry beep at him. Perplexed, he stared at them in shock until the orange one made the universal 'pick me up' motions at _Optimus_ and Megatron smirked teasingly at the Prime as he lowered him to his own pedes so the twins could cling to him. Galvatron screeched in rage and started beeping threateningly at them while Onyxflame came to hug Megatron's pedes possessively in fear of them trying to take her own chosen caretaker, too.

Optimus just glared at the smirking Decepticon even as he picked up all _three_ of his charges. The new twins chirped in synchronized content as he cradled them in one arm and Galvatron in the other. To Optimus' credit, he didn't buckle under the combined weight of three warframe sparklings and he somehow managed to coo at them while at the same time still glaring at Megatron. "I should have let you burn out in Earth's atmosphere."

"Now, where would the fun be in that?" The gray mech couldn't help but tease even as he scrutinized the twins. He couldn't help but feel that he'll have some competition for Optimus' time from now on. He already has to practically battle for it with his other charges and his regular duties. At least Alpha Trion won't be a competitor anymore. He and Skyfire had more often than not won any 'competitions' for Optimus' time and attention in the last year or so. Though now Primus and Optimus' siblings had an advantage of communicating with him at any time through the Matrix ... _'Hmm.'_ "What will be their names?"

"I let Galvatron choose, so I don't see why they shouldn't get the chance," the Prime shrugged as best as he could with his servos so full and then looked down at their unexpected new additions. "So what will it be, little ones?"

"Jetfire!" The orange sparkling immediately chirped, soon followed by his twin's "Jetstorm!" That was probably the only speaking they'll be doing for a while, or at least any talking that's not in the sparkling dialect. The adults left them to beep and chirp at the still annoyed Galvatron, instead focusing on each other. Optimus looked wary of the thoughtful look Megatron was giving him.

"You know, my dear Optimus," he began even as he scooped up Onyxflame and dumped her in with her new 'siblings' as he then proceeded to scoop up the protesting Prime and all their charges into his strong servos without even a reset of his optics. The Prime was trying to outright spell murder with his optics alone at this point, even as Megatron walked them through the happy crowd that might start getting overcharged as soon as the new families took away the sparklings to be checked over by medics. "Perhaps there _is_ something we should do a lot sooner than I had first thought it appropriate."

"We are _not_ talking about our interfacing habits in front of _sparklings_, Megatron!" Hissed the Prime at the larger mech. Megatron frowned when all four sparklings mimicked Optimus hissing at him, even Onyxflame. He'll get no support from them, it would seem. Shame.

"I meant bonding, my dear, though there _are_ a few ideas in the berth that I'd like us to try. Care to ... _discuss_ them as soon as we leave the little ones with your ... more mature charges?" But he had apparently stunned Optimus with his proposal and he grinned again when a new wave of approving cheering swept through the area. At least he had the Republic and his own mecha's support. And the flustered heat coming from Optimus was just _adorable_. He needed to dump the sparklings on the nearest of Optimus' older charges if he wants to actually get Optimus to agree. Almost an entire stellar cycle has passed since that night when they had merged sparks with nothing but pleasure in mind. They'd not done it again, though they _had_ interfaced properly many a times since then. Neither of them had any kinks but they liked to experiment from time to time, though that one time Megatronus and Solus had managed to jump in and things went a bit wild. Prima trying to help hadn't actually _helped_. Optimus could barely walk the next day. Who knew that Megatronus and Solus were actually in a three-way relationship with Prima and that the eldest Prime liked to be dominated? Or that the youngest occasionally liked it extra rough, for that matter, seeing as Optimus had asked for a repeat performance as soon as he could walk properly again, only _without_ the interference of his siblings.

"B-bonding?!" The red and blue bot squeaked out, not at all Prime-like, and Megatron chuckled darkly in delight. Oh, he was going to _devour_ his mate-to-be. And, as always, Soundwave remained his favorite as he stepped up to take the sparklings from his mentor's slack servos. The visored cassettedeck sent him a meaningful glance before marching off to his own mate-to-be because, yes, they finally _had_ gotten together even before Metroplex left Earth. Megatron wished them all the luck, but he couldn't really focus on them when he had his Prime in his servos and no sparklings or charges to distract them. Optimus didn't seem to be protesting as he powered up his thrusters and started flying them towards Optimus' quarters.

The peace they had was still strained and required a lot of work, but at least everyone now had a damn good motivator to try harder to make it work. One thousand fifty one stellar cycles ago, the Primal Basilica had been raided of its precious artifacts of immense power and the ancient city of Astroplex had been stolen from them, gone without a trace even as a new state was born that was stealing more mecha from both factions each stellar cycle.

Now, Megatron had that very same Thief lying under him, ready to share his life and spark with him as peace slowly settled over Cybertron and all its territories.

Optimus may keep his siblings and Creator out of their relationship, but Megatron still felt Primus purr in happiness and content as his creations all finally got along after so many stellar cycles of pointless war and conflict. The corrupt system that had nearly brought them to extinction was nearly completely eradicated and they were losing power real quick as the Galactic Council cautiously took Optimus' word that the Autobots and Decepticons were finally ready to live together again.

Life was only going to get better from now on. Megatron could teal from the warmth of love he found in Optimus' spark that echoed his own.

Peace was finally here.

**THE END**


End file.
